Vignettes of a Man Who Knows Too Much
by pitkat
Summary: AU Vegeta is placed as a pawn in a massive power struggle between two ruling factions in the Planet Trade, threatening to erupt in civil war and revolt. Ripped from his people and culture at a young age, he must adapt if he is to survive.
1. Prologue and Author's Note

_**Prologue**_

This was how it was on the bases. Long interns of nothing punctuated with brief surges of intense violence. The oscillation of these two extremes was difficult for most to handle, resulting in attempts to fill the excruciating boredom with activities that belied their true nature. A misunderstood notion that their species was nothing more than mindless and ravenous was now perpetuated in a never ending cycle promoted by their need to survive and endorsed by the institution under which they served.

They were slaves.

Although Vegeta could see tendrils of this as a child, the clarity of his epiphany was never more transparent than when he finally understood where exactly his species stood in the ranks of the Planet Trade. What monumental fools they had been. 'Reverence' for their ancestry was as symbolic to the Razukin Military Alliance as the blind procession of traditional ideals was to the Federation. It was all so fallacious that the mere connection the two subspecies held was beginning to insult his psyche.

Worse was the realization that the only way out of the sad predicament he found himself in was either submitting to their principles or dying honestly within the profession his kind had acquired. Some would suggest that this was the most honorable way to go. One by one drifting off into oblivion under the dominion they helped establish. Accepting their extinction with heads held vigilant. However, others opted to blend the final vestiges of their unique genetics back into the descendant race. Perhaps it was an attempt to attain immortality with dilution.

In the end, it was simply another copout to him. Another way of bypassing the issue because they were too weak to revolt against the fate forced into their hands. As though the saiyans ever really had a chance. They were too few now. Cowing to the breeding of their kind as though they were manufactured tools, consequently tossed to the way side when they had ultimately outlived their usefulness.

_How had it really come to this?_

**&&&**

**Author's Note**: Ahhh, now after that, how could you not continue reading? Huh, huh?

Welcome to my insane method of telling you a story! These are a series small one shots and snippets/chapter fragments from the first of a 4 part series revolving around Vegeta's life before he lands on earth. 2 of 4 is a consecutive work called _Redemption_ (also currently being worked on), which retells the fateful landing on earth and all the drama that ensues. Since I'm writing multiple parts at the same time, these fragments will be posted and rearranged according to chronological order. I will also give a summary at the beginning of each post to give you an idea of where we are in the story.

Hopefully, I can keep your attention, as each one shot is meant to have some enclosed meaning within it that relates to the overall plot. :)

To give a heads up, this is an **alternate universe** fic _very_ loosely based on the Z Series and, thus, involves many of the known characters. Obviously, **I don't own anything**, although I do introduce new characters that are main components of this series. I also change some things to flow with the story more, so some powers might be different, etc. This is because one of my goals is to take the character concepts of the Dbz world and drag it kicking and screaming into a realistic one. I know, like I said I'm crazy. I write with immense detail, which hopefully you all like, and there will be many subplots as well as several love affairs between the main character and others. Lots of adult content, so I hope that does not bother you.

**Anyway, on with the background and plot summary:**

_In a sentence or two_: Vegeta is placed as a pawn in a massive power struggle between two ruling factions in the Planet Trade, threatening to erupt in civil war and revolt. Ripped from his people and culture at a young age, he must adapt if he is to survive.

_In more gory detail_: The overall story places Vegeta as the main character and focuses on his life within the Planet Trade, including his training, his missions, and inevitable landing on Earth.

At the center of a political battle between two feuding cousins (Freeza and Nirrikii), Vegeta is forced to comply with life-altering decisions that eventually result in the eradication of his home planet and near extinction of his species. Further caught up in the fiery backlash from an ever growing population of his kind's descendants, the razukins, a civil war within the Planet Trade threatens to erupt. The expansion and breeding of the saiyan race to facilitate military as well as civil ventures was so lucrative for the Planet trade that the shear number of the descendant Razukin population allowed them to demand political concessions and their own power. Eventually, treaties between the subordinate class of humanoids and the tsiru hierarchy had to be drafted in order to subdue the growing likelihood of a successful revolt. However, acknowledgment of the Razukin's power would only proceed at the best interest of the tsiru (Freeza and Nirrikii) themselves, and Vegeta would eventually be incorporated as a tool to accumulate valuable information as well as target those unfortunate enough to fall out of favor.

In the effort to better control the expansive borders of their territory, Freeza and Nirrikii work together in effort to more efficiently create tools that would expedite their cause. Rather than turning to artificial intelligence for fear it would be too difficult to control, they instead focus on enhancements of easily manipulated genomes and neurologies to design prototypes that could be incorporated as better soldiers, pilots, negotiators, and puppet leaders. Razukins were cheap and obviously common enough to use as the proxy, and a series of functional implants developed. Gene splicing and manipulation resulted in unusual mixes of perfectly aligned officers designed specifically for the military. In the first advancement, however, internal tension resulted in smuggling of the experiment into enemy hands (the Omega Sector) in exchange for protection against the Planet Trade. The research was dropped and smaller-scale alternatives sought after.

On the other end, the usefulness of the saiyan species was wearing thin. Although a commanding presence within the Planet Trade as well as the birth ancestor to the razukins, there was only one planet and finite number that can be called into action. They were consequently expensive and required constant supplies to keep their dying planet functional. Although this posed as a serious problem when negotiating terms for their survival, Freeza also privately conceded its own unwillingness to destroy them; secretly hiding their continued presence from his overseers. In order to appease Nirrikii's desire to acquire a suitable pawn for the razukin leadership as well as balance its finances without drawing attention or blackmail from its cousin (as Nirrikii knows all of this), Freeza strikes a deal with the ruling saiyan faction to exchange a very young Vegeta for continued military export.

Out of all of the experiments to escape into the 'Omega' Sector, one happened to survive and was raised under the pretenses of her design. After many cycles of continuous war along the borders with the territories that was ultimately termed the 'forbidden zone', the Planet Trade began to suspect that the advanced weapon they designed was being used. The discovery of the lone survivor's presence resulted in a push to somehow infiltrate her back into the Planet. Vegeta would be sent to investigate and ultimately recruit the experiment.

The survivor, Raylin, agreed and returns under the contract that the Planet Trade seek a peace treaty with the Omega Sector while she was under the territories' jurisdiction. In exchange, she willingly provided technology to the Planet Trade and adopts to train the pawn Nirrikii demanded cycles prior. Vegeta has no options but to obey his orders, unknowingly risking the extermination of his own kind.

Wow, that's one big summary and prologue! Hopefully, this sparked your interest. As always, **please please please REVIEW.** Your comments matter. If you could help me out with titles, that would be awesome. :)

Now without further a due, let's begin… Happy reading!


	2. Recruit

**Author's Note: I don't own anything except for Brunx, Mardo, and Surae**.

_Helpful background_: Vegeta was taken from his planet and family as an exchange for promised military export for the saiyan species. The original plan was to have him trained specifically under Nirrikii's jurisdiction, but he was much too young at the time of the trade. So, instead the cousins (Freeza and Nirrikii) had a caretaker, an aspiring saiyan mechanic named Xixi, assigned to him until he was of age. The problem was that when Xixi's contract expired several cycles later and Nirrikii never came to claim Vegeta because of other political reasons. Thus, Xixi was reassigned and Vegeta was put back into the hands of his military at the age of 9.

One of the conditions of the 'trade' was that Vegeta was to be separated from his kind culturally and professionally (to make it easier to mold him to specific ideals that Nirrikii regarded as important). By the time he made it back into the ranks of the saiyan elite, he did not know his own language, nor did he have any concept of his status as a future monarch. He also had no duties like the rest of his military ('cause Nirrikii didn't want him killed in action before he was even properly trained), and as a result he couldn't relate with any of the veterans. This created some strain between the most elite saiyan soldiers who already had issues with the ruling aristocrats of Vegetasei and a prince they were now forced to take care of.

Now, before you guys go crazy with this 'what's she changin' the story!' keep in mind that this _is_ AU.

_Added notes_: 'Veget' means king. It's a title. If you think about it, so is 'Vegeta.'

Keep in mind that these excerpts are rearranged to fit in chronological order with the story. Sorry, but it's what happens when writing disjointedly. Your comments are always appreciated. :)

Happy Reading!

**Recruit**

Lord Freeza was very particular about its officers. It was sort of an obsessive nature to keep only the most 'worthy' around it, as was not uncommon among members of the tsiru species. Consequently, the warlord placed great emphasis on continued instruction within the ranks by providing a unique platform in which the most qualified of their relevant fields could refine the skills necessary in the direction of the territory's cause. That was the purpose of Ngtsu – the home station for all prototype development and testing within the warlord's sector.

As such, in order to be transferred to this base, one would have to qualify by either receiving recommendation from someone who deemed them top ranked in their class, or surviving long enough to warrant closer attention. Saiyans typically fell into the second category. Their job was particularly brutal, which meant that literally only the strongest and most physically capable tended to survive past several consecutive cycles. The elite class had legendary recognition, not only because they were _the veterans_ with an unending contract for their service, but also because they were conspicuously unusual among their race. Although incredibly strong, many of them were also faintly insane from their method of hitting the glass ceiling. There was suggestion that the lack of conscience most carried with their profession was exactly why they were so extraordinary in the first place. However, awareness that they would never retire did not sit well with some, as it was also suspected that the worst of the saiyan reputation sprung from the cruelty and psychosis dwelling within the mind of an elite who truly longed to die.

For this reason, it was understood knowledge that Ngtsu base never received fresh saiyan recruits.

Never.

And yet, striding headlong down the platform was a tall, lanky figure clearly underweight and underage when compared to the ranking officer guiding him. Brunx shifted the bag on his shoulder excitedly, gathering his surroundings of the wide docking bay with the fervor only a child would respond with on their first adventure. After all, no one was ever commissioned to Ngtsu straight out of the academy.

"Subordinate, stand round."

Acquiescing to the order, he reared himself and stood upright with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. Chest straight, chin high he looked to Captain Mardo with a glint in his eye such that the superior officer could not help but wonder how easily it could be removed.

"I see you made it safely to the base."

"Yes, Captain."

He motioned his left hand to the opposite shoulder subtly and pulled it back out with two fingers straight, attention never leaving the level height of the young saiyan. The sign Brunx did not recognize, although it was immediately received by the other subordinate as he nodded his departure, "Second Class Rier, handle his belongings."

Brunx let the weight off of his shoulder and into the arm of his travel companion, somehow assured that his things would make it to the appropriate place. Focusing again on the height of the ceilings, he began to follow the captain back into the structure of the main base. The architecture was strikingly different than the rumors filtered down via transient officers and guest substitutes aiding in the final tutoring sessions before they all headed out on their first tour. However, it was no less sophisticated than he imagined.

"We do not often receive such inexperienced soldiers as your limited knowledge is a liability," Mardo remarked casually after a moment. When he received the command protocol to accept the apprentice into the base with further instruction to complete his training, the captain was not the least bit happy. Undeniably though, he had little choice as the order was not only relayed from the Veget, but was also hand delivered by Freeza's own first class officer. If he was smart, he would take it with good nature, "You must be surprised to have been chosen to come here as your first assignment."

"I am, Captain," Brunx chirped happily from the cordial response. He had also heard rumors about how rough the commanding officers were toward the less experienced. He half expected a ritualistic hazing before leaving the confines of his transport vehicle.

"I looked over your record, and you are indeed a superb student with potential. Although, you will come to find that this place is different from most bases," he confirmed, "We do not coddle nor do we look well upon weakness. If you are to survive, you do exactly as you are told, clear?"

The subordinate affirmed mutely and continued to ogle at the sheer immensity of compound. As they left the docking platform, a long narrow shaft opened before them with a clear view of the upper decks off in the distance. Several other barges among various smaller transporting pads with mechanics and such lined both sides of them. The basal level hummed with activity as each ship unloaded its diverse crew composed of numerous clades, many of which the new officer was unfamiliar with, into their respective windowed tubes. The white walls of the main base curved upward in a convex bulge, and a multitude of narrow lighted strips jutted out suggestive of scaffolding for individual docking bays. A rush of cool air hit them as the wide port doors opened, revealing a hectic base deck.

"This is when all of the new transfers come in, pup," the older saiyan declared as they made their way through the crowd, "There are several elite razukin academies on this base in addition to the Lord's research division. These decks are off limits to you, clear?"

"Clear," Brunx muttered, still too preoccupied by the multiplicity in the parties diverting along their own path. On his training base, there was only a handful of corresponding alien species; presumably ones they were expected to interact with commonly in the field. The saiyans towered above many of them. If their height was not enough, their prowess would certainly prove intimidating among the myriad of technicians supporting more automatable versions of ground troops with the infantry of comparably weaker razukins that followed.

Once the two males managed passed the open reception area farther into the interior of the building, they headed straight toward an air lock aimed for their final destination. Another swish of the gate resulted in rushing of air through the slit as it closed, this time toward the expanse of the foyer from which they left. An unnatural silence remained to pad the space.

"I suspect," the captain began with a flat tone heralding his lack of enthusiasm in having to provide excess information, "that you will not be given your first protocol assignment for some solar weeks. Normally, the base is quiet as crews are off site on their respective protocols. You are to take this opportunity to familiarize yourself with the facilities. I am assigning a lieutenant officer to you so that you keep your tail out of trouble," he finally glanced over to the young adult, a jaw muscle flexed with intent, "No one likes a miscreant, am I right?"

Brunx took in the mini speech with a nod every second or so to show his awareness, "Yes, Captain - I mean, no, they don't."

"Good," and the air dock opened with a firm whisk followed by another whistle of air into a smaller, less maintained lobby. It was bizarrely empty compared to the main deck, darkened somewhat by the lack of lighting and damage to the lingering florescence above. To the side stood a tall broad soldier, refined features mirroring the expression held by his superior, "Lieutenant Captain Surae."

"Captain," he said with a solute. His sight shifted directly to Brunx as he broke into a more pleasant smile, "So this is the new recruit. You've got some big armor to fill, subordinate."

The friendly greeting resulted in a sheepish grin from Brunx, palm already at the base of his scalp, "I suppose I do."

"Let's get you settled. I'll give you a break down of the base," Surae signaled in the same manner Mardo did before and guided Brunx by the shoulder into the main corridors.

"What kind of salute is that?" Brunx craned around with a shy nod to the captain before hesitantly repeating the sign.

"That's pretty good for a first try," he smiled. Surae understood what it was like to be dumped on a base as the most inexperienced of the crew, and more importantly, how critical a mentor was to his development. He had been hazed terribly on his first base, but soon settled once he got the gist of the pecking order. Rising through the ranks was a matter of not only being good at what he did, but knowing when to kiss ass if it were necessary. The transfer to Ngtsu was only added proof of his capabilities. Still, he was otherwise cocky, which much of the time landed him in more difficulty than his good qualities helped get him out, "Each base has a personal salute. Think of it like a code. Comradery with your fellow ranked."

A grin engulfed Brunx once again, reflecting his still green expectations. The rumors were just that, perhaps, as the saiyan usually took his first impression of anyone to heart. With that, he settled his nervousness for more productive activities and promised himself to recall everything if necessary.

For as large as Ngtsu seemed, his introduction to the sub deck where he would reside for the length of his contract proved to be rather short. There was a central commons where they ate their meals along with several smaller general rooms neighboring the living district. Nearly half of the deck comprised of five tall arenas designed for the soldiers' continued self guidance. Often, this led to tourneys that, as Surae informed him, typically occurred just after new transfers arrived. It was a noncommittal way for the captains to select the following cycle's seniority among lower subordinates as well as a way to pass the time. Living the violence was one method of never having to deal with the psychological consequences of it. Personal quarters were small simply because many of the groups shared their living space with up to three others, dependant on rank. Overall, roughly three thousand saiyan elite inhabited the base, and of that, only several hundred were present for any given time. Injury or an approved sabbatical were really the only two reasons to stay, leaving many waiting pensively for their next departure.

For the status the saiyan elite held, their living conditions were below par, which silently surprised the new recruit. The academies were much better maintained, partly because of a workforce scraped from the active trainees, and also because the majority of the recent divisions encompassed fleets of razukins. Their salaries would be lower, but their numbers were greater, demanding a sort of compensation for their labor under union ordinances. Still, the younger saiyan generations reaped the fruits of their descendant's negotiations and lived rather cozily when compared to where he was now.

It was not until they reached his quarters that Brunx became noticeably excited again. The electronic command was typed quickly enough, allowing the tall soldier to waltz into his new space. It was narrow, although more spacious than previous alcoves allocated as lodging. Two compartments were aligned facing each other, one housing a small individual hunched over something in his lap. Brunx bristled with recognition.

"Is that really him?"

"The one and only."

His eyes went wide. From the time he received the assignment, Brunx knew exactly who he would be rooming with. Now after everything he heard as so-called 'accounts' from soldiers claiming to have actually met him, there the very real and young Vegeta sat, "Can I talk to him?"

"If you must," he drawled, "Although, I warn you he does not like being bothered."

The advice was promptly ignored as Brunx approached the adolescent lost in his activities. The male was diminutive, almost childlike in his physique; small narrow fingers nimbly tweaking a set of skinned wires around the interior of another instrument. An outdated scouter was attached and running, the program scrolling a set of prompts down the olive tint covering his left eye from cheek to brow. He paid no attention to the newest intruder, merely snatching a tool closest to the edge of his cot without glancing up. For a moment, all the recruit could do was marvel at the site, acknowledging how full of shit his teachers must have been, for they had nothing on him now.

"Hi, I'm your new bunkmate," he beamed, hands casually on his hips. A chuckle immediately replied from Surae, head already knelt down to meet his fingertips.

"Good for you," without missing a beat, "Your shit's over there."

Brunx was naturally warm-hearted, probably a little too much so as he let most offensive comments slide off of him without care. This was one of the qualities that allowed him to so easily pass the first half of training without much harm. Of course, this was no longer the academy, and nothing could prepare him as the next phrase innocently slipped from his mouth, "Hey, the rumors about you are true!"

Vegeta stopped the program and peered agitatedly up at him through screen of the scouter. A scowl already etching his sharp jaw line, he demanded more than questioned, "What rumors."

"You are small," Brunx replied with a playful chortle.

The teen unhinged his jaw slightly and scoffed with utter revulsion. Then, he turned the fury with a vicious glare toward Surae, who was unceremoniously ignoring what he knew would turn out poorly. He hated new transfers. It was always like this. It seemed the captains were now sending their bottom rung in effort to continually show him how even the most intrusive imbeciles were more applicable than he to their line of work. Too short. Too small. Too quiet. As though any of that mattered in their survival, for he still could not relate. In a dark blaze, Vegeta pulled off the equipment and was on his heels toward the cabin door, leaving a baffled rookie and his snickering cohort in the corner.

"I told you," Surae pushed the laugh through his nose. "Now, look what you did. The pup has a kink in his tail."

* * *

From their initial meeting, Brunx had little clue as to what to make of him, for they barely ever said anything to each other over the following solar week. When Vegeta did utter something, the one or two word sentences were so quiet that the older had to strain to make them out. The adolescent rarely chose to join the group during meals and tended to avoid the captains entirely. A restrained, sullen disposition always held him such that the new recruit was beginning to wonder what exactly happened to the monarch that resulted in such moroseness.

Come to think of it, when Brunx observed vigilantly enough, he noticed that the other officers welcomed him more fondly than they did the highness. They offered him a place to chat in their games and openly retold stories to prepare him for the realities yet to come. They paid no notice to his comrade though, beyond a curt comment here and there that made Brunx instantly feel uncomfortable. In the moment, he could interject, but it would likely result in his own chastisement.

He learned after a while, from subtle inquiries to Surae, that Vegeta had no duties. He attended none of the missions and therefore the officers felt no obligation to induct the prince into their rituals. He was an outsider in their eyes as much as any razukin would have been, were they given the rites to dwell along side in the sub decks. As a result, any respect owed was merely symbolic and held little value among their very tangible responsibilities.

It made no sense to Brunx, for he assumed that the view of the Vegeta-tsu bloodline was similar everywhere as the most prominent family in the saiyan race. They were the reason the saiyans could negotiate for their survival at all. Yet, the unfortunate reality was that most soldiers housed at Ngtsu did not carry the same regard for the aristocratic line as was expected. Although never directly stated by Captain Mardo or Surae, Brunx got the strong impression that the saiyan elite had little respect for the institution that granted their continued existence because it was the exact reason why they could never go home.

"You'll understand one day, pup," Captain Mardo chided, as gently as he could, one evening while holding his patience with the recruit's constant queries. "Equal military export should mean just that. Instead, we stay here with shit while they reside in wealth and our families are forced into servitude. The cast system never ended, rather it was enhanced by this treaty. And now, they dare insult us by dumping this burden who can't even carry his own weight."

It was considered insubordination to not follow suit, so all Brunx could do was nod quietly in his confusion. The term burden was unsettling, but then he was young and knew no better in his superior's eyes. Curiosity was valued over restraint, however, which allowed Brunx the burning desire to at least pull past Vegeta's justifiable shield to recognize that someone else saw differently of him.

It would be another several solar days before the withdrawn comrade dared say anything beyond a few words to the recruit, and only after repeated failed attempts by Brunx to start a conversation. At first, he was quite annoyed by his persistence, and Vegeta automatically took the barrage of questions as another method of bullying him. So, much of the time he avoided the new bunkmate by concealing himself in his normal routine. After a while though, his own lonely conscience kept nagging to consider the gesture as genuine and with a sigh, he now made way down to a side foyer where he knew he could find all those he generally evaded.

The base was excruciatingly boring to Vegeta. Since he did not participate in missions along side the elite that Brunx was taught to so visibly admire, his role was delegated to the side lines as an everlasting spectator. He was oddly small for his age, likely from growing up on a moon and with nutrition that was strikingly different from conditions of his home world. He was also thin and wiry, attesting to how tall and lanky his bloodline should have afforded. The unmistakable ebony hairline, countered with pale skin and poignant ashen eyes, only brightened the disparity among the towering brawny figures laced with an almond luster and brunette coloring that favored his species equivalent. He was different and they spared nothing in his comprehension of that.

Today, another crew was dispatching and the sub deck was especially quiet. Brunx mulled over a set of squared off oval beads spilled on the floor before him. The narrow purple pegs were oriented in what seemed like a random manner, yet it was designed as a game. Numbers were scrawled up the length of the flattened edges with distinct colors to signal a pattern. The object was to pick each up in an order that summed to a specific number according to their color, with ultimate goal of clearing the board. After so many, the player could choose to turn one of the pieces over and see if the number or color matched any of the ones that had not yet been excluded. As tedious as it was, it passed the time; something Surae was grateful for so that he could attend to something else for a change. He would let the recruit cherish the last restful nights in his naïvety until most returned, and then the lieutenant could commence in testing the combat skills his files promised were so exceptional.

"The game is rigged, you know."

Brunx jerked up to see the long defined features staring down at him with a sort of dulled expression.

"You should play with the Cnam," Vegeta continued, "Seeing as you can't solve this, that handy game would make your brain bleed."

He regained focus enough to inquire, "Do you know how to crack this?"

"It's easy," he huffed with a haughty gesture, "There is an algorithm associated with it that matches the colors with the numbers. You can only run the equation so many times before the puzzle unravels itself. The others got their tails in a knot because I was able to solve it too quickly for them, so the captains tinted one of the colors incorrectly to trip me up. Too bad they were so stupid that they forgot to change it afterward, because none of the officers have been able to complete it since."

"Well, that sucks," he bowed his head in disappointment before brightening up again, "Do you know how to fix it?"

"Why would I want to fix it? I think it's funny they can't figure it out. Keeps attention away from me, at any rate."

"Oh."

After a moment, Vegeta cocked his head to the side, awkwardly pondered how he wanted to proceed, "How much of Ngtsu have you seen?"

Brunx shrugged, "Just sub D deck."

"That's it?" An skeptical fine brow arched upward before turning to depart, "Wow, the captains are really short changing you. If you want to see more, then I suggest you follow me."

Without refusing an unsolicited gift, the subordinate immediately dropped the game to tag after his short companion. The sudden change in Vegeta's disposition was rewarding to Brunx for all of his effort to be social. Perhaps he would come around on his own.

They traversed the long, dim halls toward the main deck lobby single file, Vegeta checking keenly down each side corridor assuring that no one was around. Pushing the airlock button subtly with his forefinger, the doors responded with its characteristic swish.

Punching a code into a small tablet attached to the inner wall, "Sub niu deck."

The trip did not take all that long, and the next minute or so both strode blindly out into the caliginous space before them. Muttering something in an alien language, the small teen felt for another tablet along the wall and issued the command. A tinking sound echoed in the distance followed with a stream of blue tint illuminating a path along the tall juxtaposing walls. No sooner did Vegeta see his entrance, then he beeline for a platform lined with large cylindrical tanks on the other side. The cerulean hue reflected off the rounded surface serving as a dual function.

"There are four sub decks, for your information, not that _you _would ever need to know," he said matter-of-factly, "This is the boiler deck. No one comes down here."

"This place is huge!" He exclaimed simply, eyes transfixed on the high ceilings. Dust coated the sides of the close-domed reservoirs in a thick mat held firmly together by the ever slight condensation stuck to the sides. Massive support beams, nearly as wide as the tanks themselves, bent upwards into the vast grayness some many meters above.

"It is that," came the unruffled reply. A long pause followed. Leaning back on the edge of an adjacent pylon with his arms crossed defensively, Vegeta was more comfortable to inquire openly with the consistent hum as adequate background noise.

"So, how did you get here?"

"What do you mean?" The tall saiyan sifted his eyes around the large drums, hands at the small of his back so that he dared not touch anything markedly important. Although the space itself seemed never ending, the tanks filled it such that only a narrow matrix remained as a unique mesh of open passages.

His eyes narrowed, "Ngtsu never acquires fresh recruits. You're too young. Too low class. So what did you do to get stuck here?"

Brunx knit thick coffee eyebrows down contemplating the question before shrugging it off innocently. Although the details were not common knowledge except for those privy, it was accepted that soldiers trained differently depending on their family lineage. The aristocrats did not opt to travel to bases nor did they contribute to the military beyond an administrative manner, and wealthier families could test out of certain requirements.

Brunx had neither in his history, and thus, had no opportunity to amend his path, "Well, just like everyone else I suppose. We all know when we are small that we go into the military. It's the coolest thing to us. So we prepare when we are really young. Go to school, learn all about it. And then, when we're old enough, we get sent to academies off Vegetasei where we learn specific stuff, like combat and practical stuff. You know," he shifted nervously, feeling his companion's negativity reverberate as he spoke, "normal stuff. Then, we get assigned a tour where we report for duty. I just happened to be assigned here."

Vegeta sat there eying Brunx, absorbing warily. The glower intensified slowly over time before he finally got up to meandered away with a silent sniff. Kicking a piece of scrap metal he had discarded sometime ago, he peered back at his new 'bunkmate,' "I never got that."

"Well of course not!" He exclaimed as though this concept was the most obvious thing, "You're Vegeta-tsu. You're not like us."

"I'm not like you," he repeated venomously. "You all are disgustingly pretentious."

Brunx stiffened at the harsh response, swallowing slowly, "I- I don't mean to be."

"You think you are better than me."

"No!" He placed his hands up in sudden shock, "No! Not at all. I was so excited when I found out I was transferred _here_, 'cause I, out of everyone else, get to meet _you_."

He blinked, "What?"

"You're famous! We all know who you are-"

"Who knows me?" His arms flew down in anger. It was bad enough being mocked by those in front of him, but by others unknown was just unconceivable, "What are you saying about me?"

Brunx backed away, motioning his hands down in a calming manner to the smaller saiyan, "Whoa, only the best things. You are our Vegeta. It would be disrespectful to say anything otherwise."

Vegeta maneuvered his jaw around to chew on his lower lip, an incredulous squint nonverbally conveyed his disbelief, "You're crazy."

In the moment, Brunx allowed himself to imagine the same about his younger comrade, followed by a thorough berating of his psyche. He thought it better to change the subject before Vegeta simply chose to end their friendly chat and never speak to the low class officer again. Looking around, he thought quickly, "So, uhm, what do you know of this place?"

He was not quite sure if it was going work as the prince took a moment to calm down and consider his reply, "Like I said, it's a sub deck. All the pylons support the foundation the base is built on. The tanks are our water storage. On the other end," he pointed mechanically, "there is a drill pipe, one of three on this moon, which pumps the water down into the subsurface and heats it for energy."

"Wow," Brunx examined the space with a more appreciative sense. Their voices echoed even above the mechanical whirring in their ears, "How do you know all of that?"

Vegeta shrugged glumly, "I have nothing else to do, so I researched it."

To him, it looked as though the deck hand not been used since it was built, "I bet you're pretty savvy about technical stuff too, then."

He peered up out of the corner of his eye, evaluating the sincerity of Brunx's comment. Saiyans were not particularly praised for their intelligence beyond the military prowess they fine tuned over many cycles of conditioning. Then, he smirked. An eerily mischievous expression from the new recruit's end as it sort of gave him the impression that he was observing a caged emotional response he had no idea how to interpret. He was slowly getting the idea that perhaps the monarch was a bit temperamental.

"It is a rarity how good I am with technology," the smirk was now directed at him with an equally dissonant stare, "I could tell you, but you would have to swear your secrecy."

The young officer twitched slightly unsure if he really wanted to know. It mattered little now, as he could see no way of backing down without provoking his anger again, "OK."

"You would have to promise on the honor of your family. I know how you soldiers can't break a promise."

"I know," he stated more resolutely.

Satisfied with the response, Vegeta pointed toward a rusty panel covered with a metal cap and a security tablet to protect a set of controls underneath, "Do you see that? That compartment controls all of the pumping lines for the tanks on Ngtsu. Do you know what happens if it is turned off?"

Brunx shook his head numbly.

"Well, first all of the electrical components controlling these tanks shut down. Then, the pipelines pumping water down the drill on the other side of the base stops working. Do you know what that means?" He spoke more slowly to emphasize the condescending tone, "It means the base has no power. And that's not the worst of it. The pipelines also support recycling of water as well as the atmospheric components allowing you and I to breath. Now, can you imagine what would happen if that machine is turned off?"

The recruit shifted with unease, glaring quietly at the panel, "Have you ever turned it off?" His question was answered indirectly as Vegeta's smirk morphed into a grin, "Why would you do that?"

He closed his eyes and waved nonchalantly, "Actually, it was accidental. I found it one revolution while rummaging around down here, as most of the security codes allowing access to this deck are out dated. They were easily bypassed. In fact," he turned sharply in an unsettlingly gleeful manner, "this is restricted site, as most of the base is to us. Mardo would remove your tail if he discovered you were down here. But, that's beside the point. I found it and I broke it trying to get the panel open. It was fixed before anyone could figure out who did it, but not before half of the station was shut down."

Brunx's jaw dropped subtly before he had the chance to pick himself back up appropriately. He had not been on the station for more than a solar week and he already was making himself out to be a delinquent, "Vegeta, we really shouldn't be here then."

"Oh, stop your whining. _You_ wanted to know. And besides, you followed. If you really cared, you should have asked." He traced a finger along the slightly eroded metal lining one of the boiler tanks, "Now you promised you wouldn't tell," He turned to look him square in the eye. The unspoken consequence was etched in his brow, "I'll hold you to it."

**AN**: And there starts a beautiful relationship (not that kind – so get your head out of the gutter) between Brunx and Vegeta. Ah, no worries, Vegeta will get the stick out of his ass and see reason in having Brunx as a friend. I think I made Brunx a little like how I see a young Goku, but I could be wrong. Vegeta is an angry little snot, though. Hehe. :)


	3. Friend

**AN: I don't own anything, except for Surae, Soen, Brunx, and Rieder.** Wow, this is the second snippet in a day. Now if only I could get some readers/reviewers. Anyway, this happens just after 'the recruit.' Same gist. Enjoy!

**Friend**

"Huih Sk!"

The ushered low rubble in Surae's voice leveled out the command and filled the tall arena above them with a feral sense. Initiating the duel.

Instinctively, Brunx held his fur on edge, trying his best to recall every tiny piece of advice. Being both the lowest ranked in his class with the least experienced automatically demanded that he have his ass kicked, which was exactly what was reverberated from his superior leaning down with feline grace.

Although hulking and brutish, Saiyans were well recognized for three attributes in the field: speed, strength, and fortitude. They were extremely difficult to kill, and even with extensive enough injuries to render the average soldier useless, their adrenaline allowed ample energy to catch their opponent with unnatural ease in addition to the excruciating force necessary to warp the metal their would-be prey often hid behind. Their persistence combined with seemingly eternal hardiness also allowed a saiyan to pursue as long as it took for either the threat to be extinguished or their ability to continue fighting remedied. In either case, few on foot managed to live past a face off with a generally experienced officer and nary an unmaimed soul with an elite.

Brunx gulped quietly with heightened insight that he might be one such unlucky soul if he did not pull his act together. Surae made sure to carefully glean his strengths and weaknesses from the reports, ensuring that both were tapped to their limit. Any issues with follow through were better found in the arena then out playing the real game.

The spar was set and the two upper soldiers faced one another within the circle. No weapons on hand, this fight was a technical match alone; the lower class of which offered to challenge the lieutenant himself. Brunx was next on the list, told to work with whoever won the match.

The entire deck seemed to be filled to the brim as nearly all of the officers had returned from their assigned missions. The revolutions heralding each crew's return was one of cheery greetings, old comrades happy simply to see the other still alive. Stories followed with rest over the next solar days, allowing everyone gear up for arrival of the new transfers. This seemed to be a cyclic sort of thing, and Brunx watched with avid captivation all of the interactions between his brethren. For some reason, he longed to be part of it. His assignment, as it turned out, actually came much earlier than the normal set of recruits, and he was introduced to everyone who happened to stray passed Surae, accordingly. The lieutenant captain told him that this was the start of the rest of their lives.

In the arena, however, it was a completely different story. These soldiers were already affiliated with both the art and underdealings of warfare. There were no rules on the battlefield and they were not about to pad the novice any slack for his inability to follow suit. Over the first several sessions, Brunx had his tail handed to him repeatedly, winning only a few of the competitions ranking him for the next cycle. Ego bruised, as he was the top in his class at the academy, Surae promised him that consideration was made for deficiencies in field-based training. Even though he would receive a low class, he was guaranteed a mentor to watch over him until he could handle his own.

Surae lunged forward, strong arms aimed to crush the other officer's chest plate. The parry failed, but the lower ranked still managed to catch the captain's fist and flip him to one side. Quickly retrieving himself, the scuffle continued, each successive blow knocking a little more of the resources the officer possessed until Surae finally made deadly contact. That was made Surae good at what he did. If the first attempt failed, it was assured the second or the rare third would succeed in its place with lethal precision. In reality, the officer never really had a chance, but it was not his fighting technique on trial at the moment.

Brunx took each move in as though they were pieces of a choreographed dance. The captain seemed to have a way of pinning the open areas on his opponent. His long arms allowed him to get close enough for an attack without necessarily placing himself at risk. The power he ushered forth could be felt on the other side of the room. It was impressive.

Another signal separated the pair and the captain leaned down to help the soldier up. The cordial response was received well and both peered over to the new recruit.

It was his turn to get his ass pummeled.

The young saiyan felt even smaller than he appeared among the group of bulky, bloody experience. All the social faces were now honed and somber, for in these sorts of events, there were no fun and games.

There was no point in avoiding the inevitable, and guiding himself like a straight stalk, Brunx met the pair with head held high.

"I win," Surae said simply, "That means that you are under my command, clear?"

"Clear."

"You ready for my first order?" He did not need to ask this, but figured the shakiness in the recruit's voice was begged for some compassion.

"Yes, Captain."

"Good." Pointing coolly to the lower class challenger, his remark was clear cut and simple, "Kill him."

Brunx blinked at the command, unsure if he heard it right. This had to be a joke, "What?"

Surae took a step forward, his expression suddenly morphing into that of deepening distain, "Did I stutter?"

"But … why?"

An unwise move. The commanding officer smirked evilly as the phrase dropped from his lips, "He lost."

The second blink hitched with his breath. Utter confusion flit his features as the recruited shifted back and forth between the officers. The lower ranked stared intently at the lieutenant captain, prepared for the test with exquisite poise. Brunx, on the other hand, had no idea what was going on, "But he's a comrade, Captain. There – there's protocol we have to follow. A chain of command."

Naivety.

An eerie silence followed that made the young soldier realize his mistake as he noticed the attentiveness of everyone else. Even the other officer's gaze was directed at him. The hairs around the tip of his tail stood on end as it tightened against his waist.

After a long hesitation, Surae stood upright, a smile accruing with an appealing nod, "You're absolutely right, subordinate. There is protocol," Then turning to the opponent, he gave another approving gesture, "Kill him."

"What?!"

Brunx thought his heart stopped as his eyes just about bugged out of its sockets. First day out of training and they were already thinning the herd. But, his pleas would be ignored as the captain sauntered back outside the circle to join Rieder in the spectator seat.

"This isn't right," the recruit cursed to himself as he looked over his shoulder at the growing threat to acknowledge that the other officer was not so willing to question his orders. Surae seemed like such a good mentor up to this point. He should have guessed this was when the hazing would begin.

"You know," Rieder muttered; a stoic mask over his disapproval, "This is an awful lot of pressure to place on a rookie."

Surae turned with a low chuckle as he sat down. This would be a fun show, "What has to be done, has to be done."

"I think you're enjoying this." He gave a side-long glance at the younger officer.

The snicker said enough. "Wouldn't be much of a Neumtie if I didn't."

The fight would be short-lived. Brunx was no match against this officer, nearly twice the size and yielding five cycles over him. Eyes trained on the objective, it was everything he had to evade the first strike only to be followed up by a successful slug to the face. Blocking was all he could do after that point until enough distance was relayed for him to think up a better tactic. His strength was speed and agility with all his lanky, underfed form could provide.

The arena came alive with the response of its audience. First rule of engagement was to never question an order, and energy coursed thick with the thought that blood would be spilt as a lesson for this type of disobedience. Brunx did not like the feeling it provoked in him; a desperate sense to flee despite his responsibility to finish what he started. The fear struck hard in the moment as he faced down yet another successful blow to his chest plate first, then his backside. Striking back was futile as brawny hands reach down to snap his neck.

"Enough!"

A roar of approval resounded, intermixed a bountiful laughter. Brunx clenched his eyes shut into the floor, waiting for the final strike. But it never came, and after a moment, Surae nudged his shoulder to get his attention.

"Subordinate, get up."

Slowly, shakily, the recruit reset himself into a sitting position, staring numbly at the captain's outstretched hand. Blood dripping down his chin, eyes wide with fear and earnest betrayal, he actually considered not accepting the invitation before his superior repeated himself. Rieder sniffed his concern from the side lines, noting to himself that the soldier was not ready.

Brunx thought hard to follow the genial order and grabbed the hand simply to get out of the fighting arena. He was done for the day.

The captain lifted up to pat him on the sore back, bits of his chest plate falling to the floor. His calm smile defied the words poignantly uttered as a lesson. The field would be a much harsher place, "Better learn to play the game pup, or get out."

* * *

The walk back to his quarters was long and painful. Brunx was grateful to be rid of the armor, since the broken joint pinched his collar now. He would have to figure out how to fix this before his first assignment. Although humiliating, everyone seemed content with his reaction and follow through. Like it was some ritual to see how any officer would react. He figured that this was something most of them probably faced at some point and that Surae's punishment was their way of making him relate. It did not matter in the moment though, as the event also placed a deeply disturbing notion in the back of mind. They had no qualms with removing him if he chose not to comply.

That was how it was with the elite.

Rounding the corner to his tiny cubby hole, Brunx realized that he never saw Vegeta at the arena the entire time. In fact, the young saiyan went missing for several revolutions; the grim mute behavior was as disconcerting as the nonchalant violence on the other side of the deck. Pressing his code, the door swished open into the narrow space and he considered just dropping his things there for a long awaited nap.

He would not be so lucky. Below him sat the pessimistic teen cross-legged over some metallic object in the middle of the room. He held a wire brush in one hand, actively scrubbing away rust particles into a bin below it. Brunx often found Vegeta this way, fiddling around with some piece of equipment, breaking something just to see if he could fix it. Boredom facilitated much of his lack in respect for things, and Brunx would have guessed that most of the items the saiyan brought back with him were either trashed or stolen. He was meticulously sanitary about his processing of machinery though, careful to get it working properly – and more importantly clean – before he dared mess with it.

Vegeta looked up from his scrubbing and stopped. His eyes resting on Brunx's unsettled face, unblinking, "You want to see something?"

He rolled a shoulder uncomfortably and checked to see if anyone was watching. Nodding, he placed the gear down and followed his bunkmate back down the hall. Vegeta slyly sauntered up to the airlift at the far end and again verified their privacy before pulling out a small narrow object from his belt. Bending over the keypad, his small form punched in a code. The response was stale with a metallic tone, "Invalid. Access denied."

He snorted and wedged the flat metal rod into the side of the panel, promptly dislodging it.

"What are you doing?" Brunx hissed.

His eyes never left the objective, "They always change the password, never realizing that I don't need it." A small spark flew from the hole and the airlift dock opened immediately. Quickly, Vegeta replaced the panel flawlessly into its original position and smirked back at his companion.

Brunx shifted his weight with mixed apprehension and frustration, fearing that someone might walk in on them attempting another escape. They were lucky with the boiler deck, but the capacity for disobedience Vegeta carried was more than he was willing to risk. A bitter taste reached his throat, "Vegeta, we could get in real trouble for this."

"Heh," the saiyan sniffed, marching into the elevator and cantering against the wall with a strong sense of defiance, "As if I care. Are you coming?"

Brunx bit his lower lip and clutched the base of his scalp. Although his conscience rightly told him not to challenge his superiors, turning back now would only prove him a coward and it was likely that his roommate would never let him live it down. Cowardly acts among the ranked soldiers were perceptibly not welcome on this station, and the additional curiosity burned heatedly as to what Vegeta wanted to show him so badly that he would risk a severe beating from Mardo or Surae. So, waffling in his decision and with a reluctant step forward, he accepted his fate if they should be found.

"Time has not stopped, you idiot," Vegeta squirmed impatiently, motioning him to get inside, "unless you want to get caught!"

Holding his breath, he strode passed the closing lift door, only barely glimpsing back into the hallway. Turning to him, "I don't understand how everything you want to show me involves taking me somewhere we shouldn't be."

"If you can't handle being here, then maybe you should run back sucking your tail. I'm sure the captains would just be delighted with that," Vegeta shot back over his shoulder as he leaned toward the electronic tablet in effort to amplify his insubordination, "B deck."

The elevator jerked into motion such that it sent Brunx into the wall before he could regain composure. In a blinding whirr, the small tube was off up deck, opening only moments later as the pressure decamped from their ears. Vegeta glided off, sweeping arcs of anxiety drifting away with each step down the hall. Brunx staggered close behind, twitching back and forth to see if anyone was walking in their direction. The small saiyan led them through a winding series of corridors, keen to avoid the busiest trafficked areas, yet remained on the most direct path to their destination. The two reached a single wide air lock with a key pad to one side.

Vegeta seemingly already knew the code and type it out definitively. A small beep responded and the interior revealed itself as a vast, exposed ship dock. Immediately, the teen guided them toward the rear of the bay, crouching against one of the spacecrafts, and peered out to the cratered expanse of the moon. A green shield was their only clue that the dock was not open and a consistent pressure helped pin all of the objects into place.

Brunx sifted his eyes around the shadowed space until he caught Vegeta intently watching the far gates on the opposite side from which they came, "Ok. Vegeta, what are we doing here?"

He grinned and held a finger up to quiet his bunkmate, "You'll see."

Long minutes passed in the empty room until distinct clops of many footsteps could be heard in the distance. Vegeta's grin morphed into a full smile as the sounds developed to quiet laughter and discussion. Brunx strained against the side of the ship, unable to see and very worried that upper officers surely were coming down the hall to spot them. He fidgeted nervously, a pained expression on his face.

"What is it?" his voice was shallow.

Vegeta brought an arm out and pulled him over to see the entrance, still staring at the anticipated arrival. Shadows crept up the wall, followed by several dozen petite figures. Every one female.

Brunx's eyes shot open and his jaw gaped. The razukin replicas all wore similar dark blue uniforms with flat collars and cropped hair. Cheery faces turned in all directions as they gazed around their room in excited chatter.

"New recruits," he heard the teen purr. Vegeta squinted mischievously, "This is the all famous Kanaqui Academy, where they train only the best pilots. All of them female. All of them razukin."

Brunx did not even feel his friend leave his side until a wave of black hair obstructed the view. Vegeta left his shadow and very confidently approached the group. He tried to stand in shock and save his friend from the inevitable danger, but no sound came from his mouth. He could only hide and hope to his personal god that he did not get caught as well.

One of older pilots leading the cluster turned, catching the short individual from the corner of her eye. She stopped her strong lecture and beamed with surprise, inflection clipping every syllable, "Vegeta!" She broke away from her startled students and embraced him with such force, it knocked him back a step. Brunx fell down in exchange. "I haven't seen you in ages!"

Suddenly, all sorts of questions came forth. Soen checked him up and down like an overprotective mother, looking for scars, bruises, or other mishandling, "How have you been? Those monsters are not mistreating you, are they?"

Bashfully, Vegeta looked at the ground while wobbling his head from side to side, "I can't complain."

"Tsk. You are far too tolerant," she complied understanding that he had little choice in the matter.

"It's a short visit," he changed the subject, sensing his bunkmate slowly manage himself to his side. A charming smile followed that made Brunx stagger once more. It was the first real smile he had witnessed since they first met, "I wanted to meet the new recruits."

"You are such a hopeless flirt." Immediately, she scoffed. Her disproval was real, but she let him off easy, "Come here."

Turning, the older version of the crew let out an alien command, "Niacie!" Instantly, all were at attention, short of one on the end. The small brunette was too consumed by the cratered view to adhere to the order, the odd behavior sticking out over the rest.

"Kanie!"

Surprised, wide brown eyes jerked to Soen's fierce line of sight and she straightened herself rightly. Once she had full interest, the captain relaxed into a warm grin, presenting the teen like she would a family member.

"I would you to meet the closest thing I might have to a son, Vegeta."

_What the hell_? Brunx audibly dropped his jaw at the blunt introduction and change in disposition all in one shot. The idea of the quiet adolescent caring at all about others was a shock, let alone his label as a 'flirt' with the higher ranked. Vegeta looked over at the captain with subtle fake annoyance, internally lapping at the attention.

"He is technically lower ranked," Soen had to concede, "However, he is my favorite, and you will all understand what I mean by my favorite. So, you will treat him with the utmost respect, is that understood?"

A unison 'Nii' echoed throughout the bay.

"Good. Now, take a look at the dock. We will reconvene in a moment with the tour."

With that, the group broke to inspect each corner of the wide space. Soen turned back to the young saiyan and smiled, "Was that what you wanted?"

He pursed a chuckle in now earnest embarrassment, "That was a little overdone, but yes."

She sighed then, renewed concern gritting her jaw line, "Where have you been?"

"Around," he shrugged. Deflecting the conversation away from him again, he looked back out the clutch, "They all look so young."

"The pilots get younger and younger with each passing cycle. One or two of them are even your age," Soen acquiesced, turning with a nod to the young adults ogling over one of the fighter crafts up for repair. Her sights then set on Brunx watching one of the said pilots saunter by on the other side of the dock. Her tone went flat, "It seems Ngtsu is receiving all sorts of transfers."

The recruit failed to hear the captain as he continued to gawk. It took his bunkmate jabbing him lightly in the rib to return his attention to the face down with the tall razukin.

"Name and rank."

Suddenly, Soen seemed a whole lot like Mardo, narrowed eyes piercing with an unspoken understanding that she was not willing to take shit of some stupid rookie. Brunx' face blanched before rattling off the title, "Brunx, Deniitsu bloodline. Beta infantry transfer from the Baem Academy, Trunsei."

Her jaw clenched subtly before a sly smile crossed her features, "You are a fresh recruit."

"Yes … Captain."

"Ah, I wonder what Captain Mardo would say if he were to hear that one of his base soldiers was up here harassing my pilots?"

Brunx' expression paled considerably at the thought, only deepening Soen's grin.

"It's been a while since he's had adequate prey."

"Why would you want to do that?" True confusion tinted Vegeta's inquiry, "He's my friend. I figured you'd want to meet him."

"_He_ is your friend?" Soen jerked her concentration to the young saiyan, judgment and disbelief evident in her rebuttal. Affirmation was not enough and she returned to the squirming soldier with interrogation in mind, "_You_ are his friend."

Brunx did not know quite what to do. On one hand, he was elated that the monarch thought enough of him to commence introductions with people he considered close. Yet on the other, he was scared shitless of what the consequences might actually entail. Shyly, he affirmed, now humbled to pondering the floor more genially than the group of trainees giggling in the corner at them.

Her smile disappeared to form a concerned scowl that continued to bore through the recruit's senses. Vegeta mulled over the response before giving his two scents, "We need to go. Can't let the captains discover our whereabouts, else they'll change the code again and I'll be forced to break the airlifts."

Soen got the hint that her reaction was a bit harsh, pulling a genuine smile to ease his tension. Protectiveness took a hold of her in ways the older razukin thought she was incapable of possessing, never bearing children of her own. Worry still cinched in the back of her mind, she chose to acknowledge them more amiably. Looking both square in the eyes before returning to her students, "Stay out of trouble."

They did not make it very far back to the sub deck before apprehension made itself known with Brunx, "I don't think I made a very good impression back there. You don't think she will squab on me to Mardo, do you?"

"What?" Vegeta began to question before waving off the concern, "Oh, I wouldn't fret about Soen. She doesn't like saiyans, that's all."

As if that was supposed to ease his anxiety.

"She seemed to like you just fine."

"Heh, that's because she's known me since I was too little to remember. She doesn't consider me a saiyan."

The way he said it made Brunx feel that she considered him something better, "How do you know her?"

Vegeta peered over his shoulder with a fleeting uncertainty before continuing down the hall with his bunkmate in toe, "My caretaker and her were close friends. I knew everyone up here at one point. Pilots. Mechanics. Even some of the technicians."

His caretaker was a famous pilot. The first B class saiyan officer on Ngtsu. Recognition lit in the back of his eyes as he recalled one of the substitutes who came to the academy some time before with stories of the royal child. She was very tall and pretty, he thought.

"What happened to her?"

The pair reached a look out over one of the main docking bays. The pristine white path spread into nothingness over the cratered moon, and Vegeta paused to look at it like he remembered doing all those cycles prior. It was moments like this when memories of Xixi came flooding back; warm arms lifting him up to the railing so that he could watch the ships dock.

"She was transferred," he answered after a moment, "They all leave, eventually. Except for me."

Brunx knew he hit a nerve, biting his tongue at the sense of finality in the statement. He had no way to relate with the isolation and loneliness it must have been like to watch all those close to him leave and never return. To know he could never go with them. He felt like apologizing, but he knew that would be the wrong thing to say. The saiyan wished no pity, "I won't leave."

Vegeta closed his eyes and snorted, tilting his gaze over with an eye-roll to prove how over he was from those memories, "You don't even know why you were transferred here."

"I have a theory," Brunx replied as they continued down the hall, "You want to know what I think?"

"Not particularly."

He pressed anyway, "I think I was transferred here to be your friend."

Another laugh erupted and younger male turned around to face him while walking. He looked as if he were about they reply seriously, but sniffed it off with a, "Whatever."


	4. Survivor

**Author's Note: Ok … I don't own anything except for Mardo, Surae, Rieder, Brunx, Soen, and mention of Nirrikii, Xixi, Kanie, and Raylin.** That's a lot of new characters … Anyway, thank you for reading these snippets. I hope that you enjoy them. :)

This snippet takes place when Vegeta is a young adult. About a cycle prior (approx. 3 earth yrs), his first-ever assignment was an emergency observation mission with a pilot to the Omega Sector because of communication loss with a battle. It was thought that a new weapon was being used, but the Planet Trade couldn't figure out what kind, and Vegeta was sent in as a last resort, being the only one in his class at the base. He runs into Raylin (the lost experiment) and kept prisoner for a long while, only to be released for an unknown reason and Freeza among others becomes interested in knowing why he survived. Now he has returned to the base only to discover that as much as some things have not changed, in other respects everything has.

_Added notes_: S.P.A. mission is a mission type saiyans are involved in and spell out Shell, Purge, and Assimilate. Can you guess which one is their job? Also, a solar day is a planetary day – completely different from a revolution, which is the length of time the moon takes to go around the planet. The base in on the moon, so be aware (doesn't change the story or anything; just a cute tidbit for those interested). On a final note, the term 'pup' used here translates into 'child/baby' and is used as an insult. 'Si' is a cuss word like 'shit' or 'fuck'.

Keep in mind that these excerpts are rearranged to fit in chronological order with the story. Sorry, but it's what happens when writing disjointedly.

As always, **please please please REVIEW**. Your comments are always appreciated and good motivation for writing. Happy reading:)

**Survivor**

"So the pup returns!"

Vegeta leaned on the entry edge waiting for the return of the D class crew. Brunx was really the first he kept keen for, ignoring the captain with silent resilience. Captain Mardo peered down at the adolescent as he passed, mentally noting all of the change in demeanor. The young saiyan looked taller, and although was still dwarfed by his brethren clamoring through the docking bay, he composed himself more assertively than the veteran was used to seeing. The childish tone was all gone, replaced with hollow refined features and an overly lean torso, no doubt resultant of his gradual recovery from any malnourishment he suffered while missing. The Vegeta-tsu blood line was ever evident in him, and expressed itself with a developing sense of strength no matter how hidden it remained.

A smile surfaced from beneath the heavy weighted mask expertly prepared for Mardo's arrival. Brunx looked up from his plod across the platform to see his bunkmate standing and in apparent healthy condition. Adults were no longer present in either of their minds.

"Si!" Brunx proclaimed, dropping his bags while motioning down to his friend, "You're alive!"

"Feh," and the immature banter commenced between the two, "Give me more credit. You don't think I could be gotten rid of that easily, do you?"

"Right, well, you've been missing for a while. What did you expect us to think?"

"Does it matter?" Vegeta inquired, contorting a brow with a smirk before motioning to the crew, "How was the mission?"

Brunx shrugged, "It was. Nimα is an amazing base, if you can believe it. I heard they were going to post a docking crew there for supplies and it may become the next risa in many to bridge the territories before long."

"That old moon," he immediately recognized the location as the base Xixi reported from when she was first assigned to him. He half wondered if she were there again. The recruiting base was meant to train tactical positions related to defense, transport, and S.P.A. missions. As much as the remote facility was known for its strategic positioning between Freeza's and Nirrikii's territories, it was in need of expansion to handle the infiltration of soldiers, mostly from the latter's jurisdiction, temporarily stationed in route for the next assignment along the Omega Sector. Their obligation rendered death in Vegeta's mind as he could appreciate the kind of impact the Planet Trade's advancements could have if not handled properly. He already experienced a taste of it first hand.

Brunx, however, had no ability to hack into the reports, and was thus ignorant to the issue, "Yeah, a hundred and eighty thousand troops landed and passed while we were docked there for repairs. I have never seen so many razukin ground soldiers in my life without being out in the thick of it myself. And you wouldn't have even known that they were higher ranked, 'cause I swear _we_ were treated with some damn high reverence."

A snicker caught Vegeta's attention momentarily in rebuttal to his friend's naïve discovery. Of course the saiyans would receive veneration when they were the ones designated to save everyone else's ass in the field. It was no secret that the elite demanded gratitude for their own sacrifices from those who were ultimately acknowledged the praise and power with less work.

The two trailed behind the rest as they quickly made way down the docks and into the main station. As the second crew of six to return, the D deck was becoming more lively with time. Relieved sighs could be felt as fellow comrades were reunited after their lengthy assignments, and a chorus of load ovation resounded as the two legions met once again in their deck foyer. This situation, among the clatter, Vegeta ironically missed while out on his own personal adventure. In all of his time thrown to the wayside as a nuisance allowed only to observe the social interaction between soldiers, it was a far cry better than the isolated black compartment he had grown accustomed to for nearly a cycle. He figured in the end that he should be grateful for what little attention he received from the military, which were realistically his only caretakers. Yet somehow an edge was sharpening beneath his calloused rejection that demanded he finally be inducted into their games. After all, he entered the forbidden domain and returned alive; a feat that certainly none of them could tout over.

"It is just so good to seen you," Brunx grinned with such sincerity that Vegeta could not help but return the gesture, "How long have you really been back?"

"Honestly, I don't know," he returned, trying to find the best approach to discuss the circumstances he knew the others would eventually inquire upon. "I don't remember much. I was released from the med bay about two solar days ago, but I was in recovery before then."

"Well, everyone's talking about you."

"How do you mean?"

"Vegeta, your survival in the forbidden zone is big news. I imagine it's plastered all over the territories."

And it was no secret. When Vegeta awoke, a myriad of upper ranking officers immediately questioned him about the 'mission that went awry' and all of the events he could recall after they lost contact. The most deeply encoded reports suggested that the mysterious opponent he was confronted with, the same one that contacted Freeza on a personal transmission and not-so-subtly told him to pick up his trash was some kind of informant. He was asked everything about her, including a name, title, and origins, before he could scarcely carry himself. In all the interrogation, Vegeta was half surprised the warlord did not lower itself to consult with him. As suddenly as the barrage came though, it ended once he could relay the most significant details. He had little idea who or what 'she' was, and could only reminisce the torturous serial meetings they had together before he was released from the Omega Sector's custody in a bagged heap. The last thing he saw was Rieder fall before him and all thereafter was a blur.

All he could do was shake the projected fame off as he would doubtfully see it any time soon, "I was questioned fairly rigorously even before I reported for duty. I'm guessing that whatever I encountered was important."

"So then, _are_ the reports true?" Surae idly question as he approached, peeling back the skin of a crop he carefully smuggled to the base with a small knife. In their own content reunion, the young adults neglected to reason that the captains also found interest in his account, listening carefully in on their tête-à-tête.

"I heard you got your tail handed to you by a female pup," Mardo chimed in behind the lieutenant, chuckling at the thought of some tiny saiyan doppelganger taking out so many of his elite. Assuming, of course, that the reports were accurate and the specific enemy was indeed responsible for all of his loss.

Vegeta sullied, glaring at Nieder, near the rear of the three, for obviously not reporting his own pissing puerile reaction to the very female that 'handed him his tail,' "You have no concept of what happened, so shut it."

Raised eyebrows responded followed by tense quiet. Vegeta never talked back.

"Oh, don't take it that way. It is understandable for someone as weak as you to fall under such an adversary," the insult rolled off of his tongue with disturbing grace. The use of these idioms was all too common for Mardo to pass up, "I am sure you will not have the opportunity for it to happen again."

"You caved like a rookie, didn't you?" Surae promoted.

"He is a rookie," the captain reconfirmed with a dampened lilt. A serious pitch crossed shortly after, "A sad one at that, especially considering his pedigree."

Vegeta knit his brows in confusion, disliking the tone of Mardo's statement. His origins had nothing to do with captivity, torture, or lack of training for the field. All he had up to this point was observation, "Insults are all well and good when they only convey your deficiency in my instruction."

"_I_ have not taught you anything, subordinate, except how to show respect to your higher authorities. These are lessons you still have yet to appreciate."

The young saiyan did not respond submissively to this, as the captain expected so many times in the past. The paradox in the declaration only furthered Vegeta's aggression and he instead raised his voice such that it echoed passed the circle enclosing their conversation, "I'm sure that you are well experienced in how to subdue to authority. You certainly make up for it with your regard to others in your rank."

Silence befell the foyer.

Naturally, the first to recover from shock was Surae as he swiveled the tip of his blade around the words like he was carving the response," Well look who's balls finally dropped."

Brunx jerked to his bunkmate, elbowing gently at his shoulder, "Calm it, Vegeta. I'm sure he s just goading."

"Mm," Mardo replied, a sly toothy smile was still directed at the offended male, "Goading would be the term I could use for the only thing you are truly useful for."

He so badly wanted to pummel the indignant chortles reveling in the horrid experiences they were completely oblivious to the severity of. He could feel the heat of rage rising uncontrolled in his cheeks, and images flicked past Vegeta's eyes as he thought carefully about how he could utilize the open area always present under Surae's right arm. It exposed his rib cage just enough to dig his stupid family knife into. Sink it deep and tight. Puncture the lung and then he would finally shut up. After that, then there was the broken patch in Mardo's upper suit near the collar bone. He may need the knife still after all. He could keep it as a trophy when he was done.

Rightly though, Vegeta thought better to compose himself, and turned a heel to leave the humor taken at his expense. Fighting anyone would only land him in more anguish, detention, and future servitude for the captains. The put downs would never end and it was a waste of his time. At least he spoke enough to express his hatred to Mardo in a way that none of the other pansy secondary officers were willing. The sudden realization that he did not care if the older saiyan could cause him harm only deepened the satisfaction as he noticed for the first time all the awed faces while he walked away and down the hall in silence.

It was not until he made it to the familiar living district that he considered what Mardo said with more emotion than he was willing for the superior to see. Throughout Vegeta's life, his enigmatic family lineage was thrown into his face. No one was willing to let him in on the dirty secret as to why, but it was allowable to ostracize and hate him for it. He could recall Xixi telling him stories of prominent origins, but the translation of his language was aged considering none of military spoke it around him and his early foster parent thought it better, or otherwise was ordered, to shield him from knowledge of his saiyan culture. The return to his military was a shock he never quite recovered from, and the lack of any duties on his part only resulted in segregation with regard to relating casually or professionally as he got older. Now, after finally given the opportunity to see what they dealt with and recognize the graphic nature in which the elite lead their lives, he was still denied entry into their precious microcosm.

It was not fair.

"Vegeta!"

Along this course, he conveniently found the way to his unknown air dock. Ripping down the panel without care, he tweaked the wires together with a spark and entered. As he looked back, Brunx slowed just beyond the closing door with a worried expression. If his own kind could not welcome him, surely others would. He was willing to suffer the consequences of getting caught if it meant approval by another, even if only briefly.

Kanie. The thought evoked a flush of fond memories and he mentally kicked himself for not thinking of going to her immediately after he was unrestricted. No one was allowed into his suite beyond high officials while in recovery, so it was natural that she might have imagined him still out for the count. Perhaps she could talk him through the sudden reality he was not willing to deal with.

The B deck was relatively empty as he strode headlong down the hallway, past the main shafts and toward his destination. Each step, as always, relieved tension away from his shoulders and he could feel the threatening angered lump in his throat disappear. The slight glimmer of hope beaded on his hairline as he quickly traversed the memorized path leading to her. It had been too long since he was around any real companions, and although obviously different from them, the razukin pilots accepted the young saiyan for who he was. It was easy to relate for they taught him everything feasible in return, and in hindsight, Vegeta could only now comprehend why Xixi desired to be similar in so many facets.

The student deck was open to him and he counted the number of panels as he went, making sure that recollection did not fail. On the sixteenth, he halted and took a breath. Taking one additional moment to better collect himself from seeming too desperate, Vegeta slid a narrow finger over the electronic plate and pressed the button.

The delay was short, and the door slid open followed by a deep feminine voice, "Yes?"

Without hearing, Vegeta eagerly searched for the face of his friend only to find a formal navy chest wrap of the occupant staring back. He paused for a second, giving his eyes time to adjust before realizing that it was not a hallucination. Frustration created a frown and he finally glanced up to the owner's face. The older female pilot was of obvious high rank, her dark brown hair wrapped smoothly in a hidden pin, in turn highlighting oval cheeks and slant eyes. Manicured brows immediately knit down as she studied him over while the saiyan fumbled with the situation.

She cocked her head to the side at the unfamiliar male cynically, alarmed by the menacing appearance of the low ranking officer, "Who are you?"

The stunned expression was unbefitting and he backed away directly now undertanding that the tenant was not who he expected. With a curt nod, he made way to excuse himself, "I must have the wrong quarters."

"Wait," she demanded lowly, but the D class officer was already down the hall. She leaned out of the door, unhappy by the disrespect to her authority, "Stop right there."

But he did not halt, instead ducking toward the next available corridor sprawling away from the living district and directed himself to where he knew memorable faces should be. The pilot followed suit, assuring herself that an answer for his actions would be forced if necessary.

"Subordinate, I order you to stop."

Vegeta entered a communing sector, the large round room nearly empty as many of the pilots must have been on test flights. He quickly became aware that there were no exits to the other side, only a series of framed casements faced him with a vision of Ngtsusei, the immense gas giant beyond.

"Subordinate, round immediately and explain yourself."

The command registered, but the saiyan could not pull himself to submit. He had been a coward his whole life to everyone and he was done. The unruliness to his immediate superiors was already proof of that. Clenching his fist by his side, indecision pressed firmly.

"Subordinate-"

"Nia, leave."

The pilot directed herself toward the sound as it cut her silent, still angered by the unwanted intrusion, "Captain, this subordinate-"

"Leave," she repeated.

All argument was dropped as the tall razukin saluted and returned to the door, leaving Vegeta and Soen alone. The captain took a deep breath and peered back at the small male she barely recognized enter initially. Vegeta continued to stare forward, the grinding of his back teeth tensed the jaw muscles exasperatedly. He stood upright and his fist relaxed as he felt the childhood protector and confidant slowly approach him. He knew she was wary.

Soen's eyes grew wide and watery. The reports were proved true and all she wanted to do was rush him with questions and consolation for the entire trauma he no doubt endured during the missing cycle. However, the sustained tension, even in her presence, made her unsure how he might react to her. In her own mind, the razukin had to encourage herself that she had not mistaken the young saiyan for her Vegeta.

With a shaky hand, Soen clasped the edge of his cheek.

A flinch replied, gray eyes closing. She flattened her palm against him, turning the saddened visage toward her before her own pained heart could no longer stand it. In an aching sigh, she wrapped her other arm around his shoulder in a tight embrace.

The solace did not last long. He could not handle the shame anymore. Everyone pitied or hated him for whatever reason, and the still adolescent emotional imbalances tore at the young adult's conscious for fighting control. Unexpectedly, he was tired of being comforted for something he did not understand, and with an effortless nudge, he pushed the astonished female aside.

"What happened to you?"

He looked around the space as though he were pacing a cell, "Where is she?"

"She?"

He glared at her such that the captain appropriately backed away, recalling rapidly the young pilot he so enjoyed company with.

"Kanie was transferred-"

"Transferred," Vegeta stopped pacing and suddenly lost all conviction in taking another step. She was gone, "When?"

Soen's sympathetic expression intensified, "Near half a cycle ago. Sequi Risa was her first stop on the tour."

The emotions were not difficult to read as he clenched fine brows together again. The base was so quiet now that many of the recruits were routed to their final command stations, as was normal after their extensive instruction at the academy. It would be nearly as long before the next shipment met with their captains, and the sole remaining trainees were designated for prototype development in Freeza's inner network. Two narrow crafts converged near the edge of his sight, barely grazing the outer atmospheric profile of their backdrop. The information was overwhelming, and Vegeta felt more alone than ever at the thought of losing his intimate friend, in addition to the novel passion he did not know how to cope with. Blame was the first natural step in the process, "Why did you send her away?"

Soen narrowed, confused by the charged question, "Vegeta, I do not have a choice in the matter. She would have left eventually."

He could only shake his head in subtle defiance of this truth. He at least wanted to opportunity to say goodbye, and this was not enough. A flat palm reached up and slapped the metal wall panel hard.

"What did you expect?" The remark was meant to sooth more than chide, but Vegeta turned back belligerently anyway. Soen blinked and pushed forward, providing the only tender advice she could, "You were gone for over a cycle. We all thought," she paused to swallow and reword, "All of the pilots that followed near the border confirmed that your and Captain Tsun's communication ceased. You were gone to us."

"Why didn't they come after me?" He demanded as though the razukin had answers to retort.

She bit her lip and shrugged, "I can't answer that."

"We were outclassed," he mumbled after a moment, finding it hard to admit that his first mission off of the base was such an utter failure. No wonder the captains were mocking him. He never had a chance. And no one came, not that it would have mattered much anyway for the scene was a massacre. No survivors and only a sole individual remained in the middle of the combat zone. His orders were merely to not be visible and immediately report all activity back to operatives along the borders. "They should have sent someone more experienced to handle this."

"You were the only one here who could follow through."

"I wasn't briefed properly."

"No one was. That is how it is in the forbidden zone," The captain approached him more confidently amidst his denial, yet still tentative to ask for details she knew the reports themselves could not offer, "Do you know what happened to Tsun?"

He motioned a negative, "The last I saw him was when I left the ship and we were already drawing attention by that point."

The reports stated that the captain relayed a distress signal within hours of landing, requesting supplementary support and that he lost signal with his passenger. Vegeta was already beyond reach whether he knew it or not, and it was daunting what the enemy's technology was truly capable of.

"You cannot blame yourself," Soen consoled gesturing in an atypical posture she never allotted for her students. "When I heard that you survived, I had difficulty believing it. But here you are, and at least one will do for the return."

"That is not good enough," he insisted hastily, ranking a hand through his ebony hair. Tsun was a close comrade of the captain's, the regret he was sure she felt when discovering the loss, "I fell. Easily. I had no opportunity of following through with the assignment. I could not remain invisible or protect him. I failed."

Tears stung his eyes. Vegeta left the base with such naïve promise that his life would change. He was finally going to do something constructive with his time by contributing to the greater goals along side his military. His outlook was no doubt altered, but far from the manner that he intended and at such a high cost to those he cared about. The concept of fitting somewhere no longer mattered, for only the guilt and letdown remained.

"There is no failure, Vegeta. No one has ever survived the Omega Sector," Soen paused to turn his chin toward her with the accompanying eye contact, "except for you."

His face lost expression, questioning the relevance, "And what do I do with that?"

She raised a brow in retort, the tone brutally serious, "You hold your head up high and tell those captains where to stick it if they give you trouble. You fight for that credit and disallow anyone who dares to tell you otherwise."

The saiyan was struck from his stupor as the words graced her lips with ease. She was right in all ways, nonverbally reminding him that the fact he was alive was a conundrum let alone his free ability to retell his encounter with a very real enemy posing as one of their own. The female was so small, so child-like, it baffled him even as the memory from the first time he saw her in the center of the field mentally resurfaced. They shared such a striking likeness, and Vegeta was beginning to see now that this must have been the sole reason why she let him go. He was meant to be the message. "Everything has changed, hasn't it?"

The razukin relaxed herself and managed to bring the other hand up to compliment the first, "No. You have."


	5. Power

**Author's note: Ok, I don't own anything, except for Raylin and Surae. They are new.** For those of you who have read the snippets this far, Thank you for your patient attention. This is a stand alone one-shot that will be incorporated into a larger chapter later. Vegeta is a young adult starting his tutelage under Raylin while she continues her stay within the Planet Trade. This is the first appearance of "super-saiyan" powers in the story, although I'm not sure how much I will emphasize the classic DBZ abilities. I'm know I'm taking out the ability to fly, but there are other things that is just as cool, I promise, like what Raylin will do in this chapter. I hope you like it.

Keep in mind that these excerpts are rearranged to fit in chronological order with the story. Sorry, but it's what happens when writing disjointedly.

**Please, please, please review**. I know story fragments are not appealing, but I really like feedback – good or bad, doesn't matter.

_Additional notes_: A "revolution" is like a day, if any of you are familiar with planetary orbits and such. However, the base is on a moon, so a "day" not a solar day but a single orbital revolution around a larger planet.

Happy reading:)

**Power**

Word returned to the base and all its captains of his feat. One of them had a breakthrough. It was on a mission that Surae accomplished it, but the raise in his energy reading was evident even after he returned. Rumors of some lost heritage reached Raylin's ears only as she listened keenly to the reports that retold of the mysterious Saiyan ability.

"So that is the reason why the Planet Trade cares for them so," she muttered, placing the slip down to attend to her duties. Vegeta was beguiled by the account, for it was one of those rare times he had ever been allowed involvement in the military banter. As a result, he went missing from their session to attend Surae's homecoming and watch from the sidelines with wide eyes. Raylin at least gave him enough credit in the courage it must have taken to break away from his fledgling routine.

She had no need to research where the subordinate was. It was late and the lights dimmed on queue as she silently traversed the long hallways of the D deck. She checked on Vegeta previously without his knowledge as he sat enamored in thought while still observing the new rising star from an observation stage hidden above one of the many large arenas. He had been there for the entire revolution since Surae's return, following him silently from area to area. It was like he desired to absorb the technique, thinking somehow this would help him escape the wrath of the commander's effort in her scheduled attempts at killing him.

Raylin smoothly entered into the small windowed room, amused by her student's lack of perception. For long minutes, they both stood silent, observing as the lieutenant captain showed off his 'professional advancement' in a private mock fight with another subordinate below them.

"Such a waste of energy."

"What do you mean?" Vegeta was too avidly on Surae and the other to make eye contact with his question.

"Their power is wasted," she reworded, pressing down on the panel with a dainty hand. "When he transforms like that, it needlessly expels energy away in all directions. Do you see it?"

A small light flickered in the lower left corner of his reader. Each swift move from the two soldiers resulted in a series of colored waves emanating away from their bodies, and he squinted his right eye shut to follow the surges more clearly, "Sort of."

"Not with the scouter. Can you physically _see_ it?"

He replied with a disheartened glance, "You can only sense the energy. If you focus on it too hard, you'll strain the brain and eyes."

"Is that so?"

As soon as he retuned to the window, Vegeta realized who he let his mouth run to. Of course there must be some way to sense it physically if the commander bothered to bring it to his attention. Sighing, "I recant."

He could hear the responding smile. She approached his side and leaned slightly with a soft voice, "Focus carefully at the side of Surae's face as though you were to look past it. The aura is faint. Rather weak gathering his movements, for the stronger the energy signal, the brighter and more readily visible it becomes."

Vegeta obeyed, carefully peering at the fine line between the older saiyan's profile and the space just beyond it. He squinted more intently after a moment, blinking several times to better correct his line of sight as they moved across the platform. A snort escaped, "I don't see anything."

She chuckled, "That is because he has not transformed."

He snapped toward her as she taunted in a pleased gesture, "Don't fuck with me!"

"What was the literal translation again?" Raylin placed a forefinger to her sharp nose in false wonder, "Ah, yes 'super'-"

"Shut up."

The commander stopped goading and stared at him. He stood boldly, a mirror reflection of her form, were she male, "I find it fascinating that as one who is so outcast by his own kind, you would still readily defend it. Even at the expense of your own reprimand."

In a snarl, he turned away. This was something that on any other day he would be reluctant to do for the exact reason she pointedly alluded to. He stepped passed his bounds and not only defied the second chief in command of the base and his immediate superior, but also insulted the one who very likely would be carrying out his punishment. He was beginning not to care, no matter how much he feared her. He awaited the verbal lashing with exquisite indifference, secretly promising himself to learn the skill displayed before him. Then she would have less to laugh at when he refused to get back up.

"You will not need a scouter for this," Vegeta flinched in surprise as Raylin reached for his temple and gently removed the thin shield from his left eye. He became further perplexed as she collected herself to depart, "You are not to leave until you can distinguish the energy clearly."

As quickly as Raylin had vanished from the upper observation deck, she sauntered through the doorway below, inevitability resonating with every step she took. Vegeta swallowed with uncertainty at the thought of whatever stunt she was going to pull in effort to teach him a candid lesson. No doubt it was to slap his species back into their subordinate status. It was ritual with the A class officers.

"So pups," She raised her voice enough to echo across the hall. Both saiyans ceased the duel to provide the commander with their utmost attention, surly as it was. A cheeky smile splayed on her lips, "You wanna spar?"

"Well look who it is," the fake courtesy returned. "None other than the pseudo-saiyan itself."

"Is that what the captains are calling me now?"

No reply shot back, only the self-confident smirk Surae always used when he had something to say that would immediately reward him with a trip to the barracks. Instead, he paused. Vegeta mused that his tiny brain had to compute a retort before long. Otherwise the snicker would prove useless and stupid against the obvious superior intellect. He imagined smoke budding from the older saiyan's ears. Raylin slamming him down with some better insult. Retaliatory anger would ensue. Detention would predictably follow.

However, neither said anything and after a moment Raylin meandered along the length of the open deck as though she were inspecting any unseen quality in the space, "I saw what Captain Mardo reported from the observation deck, and I figured that I would come down and check it out personally."

The smirk was renewed, "Ah, impressive isn't it."

She gave him a side-long glance. Impressed was not the expression he interpreted from her features, rather a controlled unreadable demeanor he always felt uneasy around, "You could say that I am interested."

"I don't suppose you can do it?"

"I do not need to do it. I am not Saiyan at that matter, as you so acknowledged, and therefore, it is irrelevant."

"You act as though this power is nothing new." He tilted with cockiness while Raylin cleaned the underside of her nails, "Have you seen it somewhere before?"

She pursed a sly grin, responding with a nonchalant tone, "From my experience in the Omega Sector, this 'ability' was a last resort in a sort of ... desperation to survive. You would be surprised what your species can do shortly before they die."

A stunned silence captured all of the occupants, Vegeta included. The student gulped slowly at how dumfoundedly honest her admission was. Eventually, one of them would have to respond, "How many have you killed?"

Raylin's eyes shifted toward Surae, "Thousands."

"Why?"

"Is it not obvious?" She turned to him more fully, "You are the enemy," and moved to the side, crashing her voice as she did so, "An easy one at that."

_Two lessons to observe, Vegeta. One, never let your anger get the best of you and never fuel your power with it. This simply exposes a weakness that others - take myself as an example - will use against you. Secondly..._

Vegeta eyed the three fighters below him, anxiously awaiting the closure of her thought. Both saiyans had already slunk into a hunched stance; Raylin's back turned away as though she had no idea. He thought momentarily of intervening before noticing the tiny blue light on his scouter tick off. Surae was going to show her exactly what the elite were made of.

_Raylin. What's the second lesson?_

She turned just as the officer took his first speedy step, a small diffuse ball in his left hand. A smiled emerged from her, revealing the devious intent.

_Always let them come to you._

He reached her with a cry, aimed to defeat the genetic riddle with his newfound strength. Thrusting forward the hand containing a fiery reward for his effort, it contacted a void space instead of the target, and Surae had to lunge another step in order to regain balance. Within an instant, a jabbing force pushed him down and a thud behind him penetrated blindly. He peered back through his hair to see a solemn small figure standing meters away. Her arms were relaxed.

From Vegeta's perspective, Raylin disappeared from her spot as though she were never there, only to reappear away from the pair as they fell. During her absence, he could barely glimpse two blips of motion indicating where the veterans were hit before landing face first into the floor.

"Is that the best your kind has to offer?"

Vegeta cringed.

Surae rose to his feet, hatred burned into the dark brown irises as a single wiry arc of golden light flew from his side and into the ground. A lighting-like spark reflected off of the observation window near the unseen spy. Raylin was now the one to smirk from her authoritative position, allowing the D class subordinate to confront her in the meager ways familiar to him. Another attempt was made, this time throwing the explosive object at his opponent. However, she made no effort to dodge, instead raising her petite hand up as though she were to catch it. As the orb touched her palm, it dissipated and Raylin inhaled slowly to incorporate the energy. Confusion disrupted Surae long enough for him to slow the exchange to a stop, and he glanced back questioningly to the other before realizing that the commander was yet again invisible to him. He had little opportunity to react, though, as another jab reached his temple and then forehead, taking out his scouter in a crackling pop of heat.

He backed up promptly, removing the equipment from his face and searching frantically for the attacker, "You are too weak to at least show yourself fairly."

"Heh, you are too feeble to sense your opponent properly," was the cool reply from nowhere. Vegeta's jaw unhinged as he fleetingly observed the female appear lithely above the pair with nothing to cling to and as though gravity had little effect in restraining her movement. In another flicker, she was gone again. The only warning for the lieutenant was a subsequent wrap to the back of the other officer's neck. An involuntary bang resounded.

"You Saiyans are all the same," she leveled with Surae, her slender frame now within arms reach. "All brawn and no brain. You think that exuding your power as though it was some divine gift should strike fear into those who would control you. You are delusional."

Fire materialized in his arm as he attacked Raylin again. She easily maneuvered the limb away from her side and tapped his visceral column hard with her other hand. With that, the fight was over and the large male crumpled to the floor, clutching his windpipe for air.

"Such disregard for the true potential of your 'power' is weak." She leaned down to him as the pale ember of his aura faded with each gasp. The whisper was meant only for his ears, "It is no wonder you will be driven to extinction."


	6. Again

**AN**: **I don't own anything except Raylin**. Thank you for reading these snippets. This one is a tidbit from the rough beginnings of Vegeta's training. Important lessons of life are relayed here. Enjoy and if you liked it, please leave a review.

Keep in mind that these excerpts are rearranged to fit in chronological order with the story. Sorry, but it's what happens when writing disjointedly. Thank you for reading.

**Again**

Everyone knew how to use a range weapon. Really, all it took to toggle the trigger was a digit and perhaps decent depth perception. And even that was a stretch prerequisite as so many of them were also equipped with motion detection, automatically reverting toward the target should it happen to stray out of the way.

But, the commander took one look at the artillery line and gave an indignant sniff that betrayed her stoic pose. She said, in her low tone, that this was likely the one item that would never truly be necessary, since their profession ultimately required more subtle finesse. And although she never outright alluded to the notion, he always fancied that she thought of the toys as tools for the less able. She had no need for them.

And neither would he.

In truth, it was one of the few things that she ever became expressive over. Something that actually brought ire and inflection into her words. _She dislikes them_, he considered as he geared up for the session. Or perhaps she thought that she was better because she never relied on them, yet still acquiesced to handling the equipment on all missions. Vegeta could not tell. At the moment though, he had little time to reflect over the issue as the petite set of figures reached to gouge out his temple. Almost too slowly he ducked, chastising his lack of perception on the way down. Raylin never pulled her punches.

Every revolution was the same ritual between them. He would get his pulp bloodied; leaving the superior the victor and the subordinate's beaten pride dripping sullenly into the pit of growing retaliation. This was no better than the constant degradation as the everlasting spectator. Only when he was turned back to his military, the captains' fear was what really overran their desire to make the monarch a true model for their hatred of the aristocratic line. The commander had no need for revenge over petty grievances, though. Her actions were simple and exacting. It was to make him a better mold. An example in all its intent. And with his precious seraphs were no longer near, the lack of any support group was more difficult to accept than the position he exchanged for it.

This was not entirely true. Brunx and Soen still held a presence, but it was at arms length as Vegeta was isolated from all of the lower decks. Ascension into higher ranks apparently was a lonely path both physically and psychologically. With a domed space padding their practice, no shame or anger or loss could be heard outside of the white tiled walls. Every time she pinned him, the familiar mantra was repeated for full measure.

_Again_. She flared.

_Is that all you can say_?

Immediately, Vegeta regretted his insubordination as a shrieking sound sliced through his temple rapidly followed by searing pain in his left shoulder blade. Raylin already was behind him, teeth so close to his ear that he could feel the soft, unruffled breath. She never broke a sweat.

"Again."

Subconsciously, his legs gave out as though commanded and the trainer stepped away. A shudder crept up his spine.

She was trying to kill him. He knew it.

Raylin moved around to the other side of the student, waiting keenly for him to obey. An unreadable slate molded to her, stanch regardless of his anger or injuries. A single step toward him was all it took for the saiyan to rise back up and attempt another claim to her side first. Her back when that failed. Then her hair if she managed to pin him in the same way. It was the only weakness he could find in her routine as several thin strands dangled out of place from the tight weave. For a second, he imitated the mental image and how petty it would be to actually do that to someone, but pushed conscience aside as she ruthlessly countered his second thrust to pin him as he expected. Clenching his eyes shut to the crack in his rib cage, he reached out and snagged it as hard as he could.

He heard the tear, but never was allowed elation as she leaned down in provocation onto his side. A thunderous snap echoed, and breath hitched in his chest as no cry could come through his throat. She knelt there for a moment, panting silently on his flattened form, and it was not until the numbing pressure was released that Vegeta looked at his outstretched hand full of inky black hair.

Raylin scratched at her bleeding scalp and glanced back to him, "That was sneaky."

Somehow, he thought his stunt was less so since he could still barely move. Tensing his arms for support, he leaned up on his elbows, but was immediately proved too difficult and Vegeta slouch his shoulders and forehead back toward the smooth, cool floor.

The commander paused expectantly, still massaging the sore patch. Perhaps it was time to shear the mane. If the rookie could use it, then surely it was becoming hazardous. In an unspoken demand, _Up_!

Her student remained still below her, though. She frowned, "Subordinate, get up."

"I cannot."

"Not sufficient," her cold tones reflected the uncaring, ungiving nature of her instruction.

"I will not," Vegeta glared back, sharp twinges shooting up his sides with each breath taken. It was innately understood that the injury resultant of her reprisal was minor, but the shakiness in all his extremities suggested that it was time to break, "I need rest."

A stifled huff responded, a clear sense of distain touching her curled smirk, "There is no rest."

A swishing noise sounded to his side and immediately, Vegeta accepted that he was under attack again. Pulling himself up and lunging forward, Raylin managed to only clip his ankle with the kick where she meant to reach his abdomen. Respite was denied further as she side cut to her left and yanked the subordinate forcefully back by his collar into the curved wall. He was now on his feet at any rate, adrenaline stoked as it was.

He looked up in time to witness her disappear and reappear before him, shaving the distance so quickly that he could only dive down as Raylin's arm sunk violently into the metal. Retrieving herself rapidly, she repaid the favor by latching one tight fist onto his skull, in turn making swift contact between her knee and his tender rib.

"Now we are even."

The forceful grip on his scalp never relented as she directed him backward with her foot. The minute snapping sounds, the silky thick spindles derooting themselves from his temple and widows peak, seemed to offset the thud as his ass hit the floor. But he still was given no time to pat the uncontrolled welling tears for his trainer was yet upon him, a knee landing harshly into his chest. A blow to the lower jaw reeled his neck back and his skull cracked against the hard flooring.

He coughed when she swiped his throat suddenly and then the pressure lifted. Rolling to his side, Vegeta curled with effort to catch his breath while another low command left her, "Get up."

He thought only briefly before defying her. It was suicidal.

"No."

Raylin twitched an eyebrow with focused attention. Pacing away, she rarely repeated herself during a session.

So, flexing her shoulders slightly and ushering a calm sense of being no mere training could ever provide, the commander pinched narrow long fingers together. Slowly, a light spun between her index and thumb, the unvoiced reprieve was a warning for him to answer to the order or suffer a far worse approach.

Vegeta allowed himself to lay there for a moment before realizing the trap. Raylin never let up on insubordination either. It was like she desired him to rebel as an excuse to beat him down only to make him rise back up again. He was tired of being forced to fight. To defend himself, the final words muttered that this was guidance and that self-ascension was a long, lonely road. If he would simply comply, the journey would be far less arduous. Somehow, the small saiyan found those lessons hard to swallow as every session was like a thrashing. No matter how well he attempted to mimic or counter her moves, the doppelganger came back with something else to tear him up with. Something new that he never saw coming.

What his pessimistic sense refused to acknowledge, however, was that the trainer had given him the reprieve. Enough to let him rationalize the indecision and see if there really was a reason for his stubbornness. Her statement was only to benefit him, "You cannot always be on the defensive, subordinate. Now, fight back."

His insolence was real and he intended to stick his ground, no matter the reprimand. With her warning lifted, Raylin pointed at him with a leisurely sense of composure, the illumination tapering into a fine thread of silk. The discharge was rapid, burning a hole with deadly precision a hair-width from his forehead. Adrenaline restocked with ammunition, Vegeta's reaction flounced him upright only to be stunted by another strike to chin with her elbow. In a moment, he skittered back against the wall as her knee made contact with his ghost image and the superior redirected toward the fleeing soldier.

But the second laser toggled from her fingers still managed to not make contact. A fine dark brow quirked, and Raylin could appreciate her student finally making a move, "Stop performing like a coward. It does not suit your kind."

That was motivation. The air whisked with his arm behind her head too predictably, and her studied response dipped to undercut his rib in the same spot her knee broke two bones before. The wince was notable. So was the follow through.

"Do not mock me!"

Raylin chuckled with reason, backing down to inspect his failed attempt, "If I wanted to mock you, I would pick something better than your failing pedigree."

"Shut up!" He spat the venom, repulsion emanating with every fiber of his being.

But the buttons were exposed, her will pushing its way passed his senses to cloud his better judgment. The commander slid into range, the lightening speed of her palm ricocheted loudly off his sternum plate. The muffled cough turned into a battle cry of sorts as Vegeta responded vigorously against her renewed advantage. Each hit deflected easily. Her eye contact was as challenging as ever.

And then she smirked, directing both of his arms downward to nail the student hard under the nose. Concentration diminished, another hook blinded his path to the floor. The languid moment passed in slow motion until Raylin righted herself in a probing vantage from above.

Her words echoed with some dissatisfaction. It was advice she offered today, "Reacting with your anger only fuels your weakness. Feed me with it and my control grows, subordinate."

What else was he supposed to do? Vegeta's eyes shot open, refilled passion played a reverse psychology; his will promising that rage was all he had to show for this endeavor. Expressing it was his only outlet to save face for allowing himself to bow before his tail in the end. It was his way of dealing with the stress. Surviving until the next time.

He lunged from below, striking with all of his strength against the enigma. His throw was faster than before, the vortex winding itself around them until it chose to engulf the room. Momentarily caught off guard, the trainer conceded to his tantrum, allowing the whirlwind to wear itself down before ramping up another reprimand. Crackling within his palms reinforced the potential building behind them, begging for release for everything he had been through. Raylin would have been lying if she denied the small impression this left on her. He was finally rising to the occasion. But, it was for the wrong reasons and, thus, she had to shut it down.

Catching both wrists in the blaze of misplaced attempts to take her out, the commander twisted harshly until cracking sounds combined with the sizzling of energy abruptly disconnected from it electric socket. She then pulled him forward to further emphasize that he, indeed, had several broken ribs.

The cry for her to relent was astonishingly loud and crumpling back to the familiar white lining of the tile, Vegeta seriously questioned if both forearms were as badly bruised as his torso. Flexing tenderly and restraining his pummeled fury, surprise was what tinted his accusation the most, "I thought you wanted me to attack!"

The instructor leaned over him, "I want you to pay attention to the lesson."

_What lesson?!_

She tsked then at the thought. She figured that, by now, he would catch on. Oh well. He would eventually learn. Turning away, she uttered the phrase he hated the most instead, "Again."

"_No!_"

Patience was possibly one of the chief components of her design, and giving him a brief side-glance, the superior guaranteed his cooperation if it meant breaking him for the rest of his life, "You will get up."

But he would rebel. That was what he was good at. Vegeta glared fixedly into the fashioned ashen eyes of his enemy. The word seemed damp within the room, "No."

Was he proving a point or simply being obstinate for the sake of it? Raylin took a moment to ponder the question as she studied him. Leaning in, whispering gravely, "There will be many times in your life when you long to simply defy the system. As though that choice were like a blade excising you of the responsibility. I can guarantee there will be equally as many opportunities when you will be denied that wish and face the reality in which you have chosen." She tilted her head to the side, still transfixed, "You have a choice, subordinate," she paused. "You can lie down and take it, or you can rise back up to meet it."

Each pant was full of abhorrence. He would be defiant. He would not look away.

A moment passed before she returned to her original position, monitoring Vegeta on the floor. Her voice, flat and emotionless, boomed inside the dome, "Again."


	7. Nami

**Author's Note: I don't own anything, except Raylin and the mie I describe**. Mies are little cat-like creatures I just made up and are like any other pet. This has been a snippet in my head _forever_, and I just had to write it down. The set up is a dream retelling the exchange between the saiyans and the tsiru for Vegeta when he was very young. It's a bit angtsy, but this is how I'd imagine a child's perspective... I think it is also pointing to how I'd imagine Vegeta's motives as he grew up. Children are often affected dramatically by things that happen to them at young ages – they soak in everything. Hope you like it.

Keep in mind that these excerpts are rearranged to fit in chronological order with the story. Sorry, but it's what happens when writing disjointedly.

As always, **please review! **I appreciate any and all words. :)

**Nami**

A golden furry tail curled around the banister, clutching the narrow sinuous cylinder with tranquil curiosity. A small body was attached to it and faced inward under the raised frame of the cradle. Something had the child's attention, clearly away from the normal toys strewn about his large pen, and he managed to escape the contraption for better, more riveting adventures. He seemingly found what he was looking for in the form of a tiny mie peering at him from the rear of the darkened make-shift den. It smiled at the child, strands of its whiskers twisting upward in meek acknowledgement of the game the two were playing.

The toddler squirmed in response, a babbled squeal emitting from his deceivingly small lungs. He let go of the rail and thumped a hand on the stone floor. The felinesque creature merely twitched its nose and sauntered the other way, stopping twice to look back at him. Its own fluffy tail flittered in a subtle gesture to follow, causing the boy to scuffle forward on bent knees and tiny palms. Cobalt eyes searched the space beyond the universe that was his square enclosure, unsure of what to make of the arching ceilings and open landing before him. Bright rays of sunlight sliced through the foyer at an angle, leaving the boy in the shadowed hollow and his pet on the other side, basking in the warm glow. He reached instinctively as the mie curled up on the platform. A purr ruffled beneath the soft tan and black fur, eager to be caressed, and it tilted an ear down slightly in his direction.

The boy nearly reached his goal, arms stretched and a determined furrow etched in his chubby forehead, when a creaking noise from behind broke his concentration. He looked over to the place where he started the arduous journey, the mie still purring at his fingertips. A deep, smooth voice broke the silence as a tall figure emerged from the shade within. He chirped with recognition as the loving form knelt down beside him, gentle lashes blinking slowly while tugging at his fist to relax from its excited grip on the animal. The mie opened an eye, still content with the child's musing, and cleaned a petite paw as though nothing was new.

He giggled wildly at the new presence. The female nudged him with a smile, disheveling the sandy mop on his scalp as she did so. Her features were distinct, with a long angled chin that merged into high-ridged cheeks. A well defined peek tipped downward on her forehead like a tiara separating the cream amber of her skin from the sleek ebony mane pulled snuggly back into a pin. Coal grey eyes deepened within the center, which gave the fleeting impression that they were as stark as her hairline.

She looked to the utter physical contradiction of the young relative and cooed jumbled words into his face. His nose crinkled, bringing his small hands to his mouth in a stifled yawn, its consequences he was genuinely resistant to. This resulted in a chuckle from the older as she quietly asked him a question.

"Mie!" He jerked and pointed to the creature now startled from its afternoon nod. A series of high-pitched noises soon followed, informing his older sibling, in his own way, of the grand quest he was just on and all the exploits he gained from the mysterious being's capture.

After a moment of banter and patting the ground around him, the older female held up a hand, rapidly soothing him with repetitive sounds to reassure that his efforts were not wasted. The child obeyed the motion, only now uninterested in their conversation, yet still in search of something. Slowly, he reached his tail around to suckle on the tip.

The female turned her attention briefly to his pet and with a kiss, sent it back to the confines of the chamber. She stood upright, picking the small boy up to her chest and followed shortly, continuing to cluck softly in his ear. Before he knew it, they left his familiar space for a long, narrow hallway.

"Mie!" He yelped this time, suddenly not appreciating the change in his location. The sibling nuzzled his cheek, insistent on her consolation with wispy deep musings that were no longer satisfying. He fussed and wiggled vainly in her strong arms while she continued to walk along the same path. Lower lip trembling, the boy looked at his kidnapper with demanding eyes, only to have stoic, yet saddened ones return his gaze. She shook her head with finality, muttering a rejected answer.

This resulted in a pout such that awareness of where they were going was lost on him, rather he focused dejectedly to the ground as though something incredibly valuable was just taken away. A soft tug was all he noticed as the tall, thin female placed him on the floor in a new room he had never been in before. The boy pulled his tail back to him again, the pacifier acting as a suitable temporary substitute for the comfort he left behind.

He looked around the wide, shadowy space. The ceilings were excessively high, grainy statues and objects hanging from the wall closest to him. Several other individuals were in the room, some of which he was not acquainted with. Two male figures stood rigid to one side near the entrance, serious blanch visage recording all movement. His eloquent sibling paced over to a set of chairs where another recognizable figure sat immersed in something else going on behind him. He eyes lit up and he pulled out his fuzzy mouth piece with a squeak.

"Nami."

She turned to him, watery eyes overshadowing her sharp features. She looked like an older version of his sister, only her lips were drawn thin into an expressionless stare. Her reaction confused the small boy and he squeaked at his mother again. She offered no reward for his cry, though, simply referring back to the initial objective with renewed sullen hatred. He could sense her anger and it bothered him.

The child glanced back and forth at both relatives in none too subtle fashion. A contorted frown formed around his chin, and he moved to cry again when a shadow engulfed his immediate vicinity, halting him in his tracks. Then, the room became eerily quiet. He rubbed the edge of his tail questioningly, unsure of what the issue was and why everyone was now so observant of shadow's owner. Ever so slowly, the toddler turned on his heel and peered up to a silhouette framed by a bright backdrop of tapestries.

It took him a moment to focus in the dark, but his eyes grew wide at the unusual and frightening sight. A thin, white flat face of something he could not identify examined him from above. Large round eyes flexed pointedly and the boy could feel each steady breath slowly overwhelm him in an isolating cocoon. Its mouth appeared small at first, but direct shock from the small thing below caused the alien to turn its creased lips out, revealing the hidden long rows of needle-like teeth. It was an attempt to smile.

His fur fell flat against his skin as he was instantly drenched in novel panic he never experienced before in his short, pampered life. A long, high pitched shriek escaped his clenched jaw and the youngster cowered backward in effort to get away. Within that moment, all seemed hectic. He veered toward his caretakers in a sobbing retreat, his breath shallow, "Nami!"

Before he could reach her though, strong arms thrust him into the air. He responded with a much more vocal scream, little arms flailing with his desire to flee. The seated female closed her eyes, two single streams falling from lowered lids. This would not do in the child's shattered world, and without comprehending who was grasping onto him, he bit and clawed and howled to be released in a frenzy that surpassed all prior tantrums. The captor was not pleased and held him still against his rapid beating chest with a stern, rugged command. It mattered little as the furry ball of rage kicked out with shrill virility.

"Nami!"

Quickly, he was turned away from the ordeal to confront another disturbingly memorable expression. Dusky iron bore into him with a silent order to still himself or else suffer unknown consequences. The youngster's heart pounded in his ears, and he shook his tear stricken head in defiance.

"Nami!"

The male spoke quietly to the child, informing him of his poor behavior and how distasteful it was for him to run. He should keep himself better in the public. He should not embarrass his family so. A slow sniffle gurgled from his chest and he peeked around to the minute crowd he previously was not aware was there. He shuddered in the older male's arms, his face reddened with shame and earnest fear.

A guttural sound emanated from the source of his angst. From this vantage, he could see the flexible vertebrae arc gracefully along the length of its torso, a set of curved black keratin overlapping with protective function. Its skin was oily and smooth, only graying in color at its cranium like a cap, and a single line dipped down between its solemn blank ridge for a brow. It locked eyes on the boy again and a strangled whimper responded.

"Nami."

The captor looked passed the child's shoulder in the direction of the two seated figures, with only one individual remaining. The young caretaker glared knowingly at her father, composed fury gritting her jaw muscles with exquisite poise. Unblinking, he turned with his son cuddled frantically in the crook of his neck, begging for placation. The motion and subsequent vision of her jarred the small bundle from his stupor with renewed violence. Trashing and whining, he called out.

"Nami!"

-

Vegeta's eyes shot open, the deep reflection of his irises adjusted to the bright light of their transport vehicle. Night had already fallen. With latent realization, he forced his pulse to slow and coincide roughly with each ragged breath. Sweat trickled down the side of a similar hairline he so vividly recalled moments before. The cry in his head still echoed clearly.

"Are you alright?"

Unsettlingly familiar features honed in on him with void concern as he turned to Raylin in the facing seat. Her coal eyes tunneled straight through all subtle traumas he was currently experiencing. He shook his head listlessly while closing his eyes again in an attempt to rest once more against the window.


	8. Imposing

**Author's Note: I don't own anything except Raylin**. Thank you for reading these snippets. This one is in the middle of the story that provides foreshadowing for the preparation of a dangerous mission that could ultimately cause a lot of problems later for both of them personally and professionally. I thought it was worthwhile posting because it gives some nice foreshadowing into their relationship as well as the most important mission in the story.

_Additional notes_: Protocols are like assignment sheets. I realize that I'm not quite using the word as it is defined, but I do define in my own way. Basically, "protocol slips" are thin paper like assignment commands (like a really thin PDA) that enclose messages and is the common method to send information back and forth to officers.

Keep in mind that these excerpts are rearranged to fit in chronological order with the story. Sorry, but it's what happens when writing disjointedly.

Anyway, happy reading! Thank you for your patience and as always, **please please please REVIEW**. Thank you for all your time :)

**Mission 8 Prep**

She handed the protocol slip to him, "I received word of our next assignment."

Vegeta unconsciously took it from her without looking up from the window. A brief scan and he realized it was a repeat of the one he read the night before, "Why are you giving me this? I already have one."

"Because you never read yours." She smirked from her chair, "This one is serious, Vegeta."

"All of them are serious."

"This one especially."

He finally turned away from the scenic view with a quizzical expression. Since their return to the Ngtsu base, he was seemingly out character and resorted to being uncommonly quiet, obedient, and non-confrontational. Raylin tapped the armrest lightly with an expectant pause before continuing, "This one requires some preparation."

He picked up the slip and began rereading, "What sort of preparation?"

"Nirrikii is requesting our assistance with a political issue in the newly established Razukin Quadrant. It is out of our jurisdiction, and therefore, this is an optional mission. We are not required to accept it."

"So why is it so serious?"

Raylin exhaled quietly, "Really, do you ever read your protocols?"

Vegeta snapped up momentarily before continuing to scan the document. She was right. "Why should I take the time to read these when you simply tell me what we are going to do anyway?"

"Then perhaps I should start cutting the strings as I did your tail. Let you fend for yourself." She retrieved herself from the chair and calmly sauntered to the facing window. He would not tune her out. "Since the razukin treaties, there has been question as to who will be the formal representative of the group once the final preparations of their quadrant are laid to rest. Two factions are thought to currently exist. The first is the terrestrial trade alliance of all of the razukin planets in all quadrants, called the Maninirii Kooriqui. Nirrikii and others simply refer to them as the Razukin Federation. The other is the military faction tied directly to the Planet Trade, which includes the majority of the risas in Nirrikii's authority. Both are of equal number and split culturally as well as politically.

"Now, the Razukins do not wish the Planet Trade's involvement in the decision of their new leader. However, increasing tension between the factions has lead both Freeza and Nirrikii to believe that a civil war could be imminent if open discussion and refereeing is not accepted. Further, the Razukin Federation claims pacifism as a merchant hierarchy and has accused the military of intimidating their faction into resigning under martial rule. The military faction counters that the Federation cannot openly exist within the Planet Trade without adhering to the same laws set for all other quadrants. They have instead insisted that their leadership is a better choice to protect the interests of all their beliefs."

Vegeta leaned back on one arm while soaking in the history lesson. "I fail to see where this fits in to us spying on the federation. If they don't wish our participation, then why are we getting involved?"

"When you get past the introduction, you will find out. The Planet Trade suspects that violence on one side will eventually erupt. Therefore, focus is placed on the promising leaders to see who will lead the first strike against the other faction. The Federation is pushing for a man named Nur Venruna, who has been a long standing activist against the military faction. His nemesis, and conveniently the opposing candidate, is Nirrikii's very own Commander Kiem."

"Great." He rolled his eyes. "Why doesn't Nirrikii put suspect on him? He's far more of a threat than the Federation."

Raylin casually looked out the window to the pilot deck. Her tone was low, "He is Nirrikii's pet, Vegeta. There is no one else she would rather have in the position than her own puppet."

He peered up at her through his protocol in response to the unexpected statement, but quickly brushed it aside to continue down the slip. Scrolling past various sections regurgitating Raylin's summary, he caught a sentence within the assignment commands. Backing up, boredom was replaced with concern, "It says here that we are to infiltrate Veruna's political camp as delegates."

Raylin gave a side-long glance and said nothing.

"We are to report any aggressive campaigns as well as agendas with regard to leadership and intended quadrant division directly to Nirrikii." He continued to scan, only stopping to read their respective assignments, "I am to replace Kandurea Dae from α9γγ-Spirruni. You are to replace Mae Kikina," he paused, "His consort."

She repositioned herself on the window panel, still staring at the platform, "Newly wed consort to be exact."

Vegeta put the protocol down and stared at her.

"Recently, the Federation has become extremely reserved of their ideas and refuses to allow the military into their own delegations. Their silence implies to the Planet Trade that they may be planning an attack on the military itself and wishes to avoid the cost of a war. If they are informed of the intended agendas, then they can step in and deal with situation before it gets out of control. However, this is not the first time Veruna's camp has been infiltrated. The Razukin military has been attempting this for several cycles with little success as every member was caught and executed. Three elite assassins ordered by Kiem himself were even caught without so much as rudimentary technology to identify them. Both their secrecy and ability to recognize intruders is part of the political tension the Planet Trade is concerned over."

Raylin turned to face the subordinate before continuing, "We are imposing as married delegates to appear as seamless as possible. To be identified will result in further tension from both factions toward the Planet Trade. Therefore, I do not think I need to emphasize how carefully this assignment must be played out. Kandurea is a rising young political advisee from the sector and is viewed by many to follow in the footsteps of Nur Veruna. Although he is young, he is a good negotiator and fits well under the terrestrial pacifistic ideals. His bride is the daughter of Dura Kikina, one of the leading trade lineages in that sector. She has no true political sway. On this mission, you will be required to gather the essential information."

Vegeta stretched his neck uneasily, giving away apprehension after examination the final details within the assignment commands. Raylin continue to face him emotionless before interjecting the silence, "As I said, we do not have to accept this protocol."

"It's not that." He replied hastily, trying to think of way to redirect his thoughts. "I'm not sure if I am suited for this protocol. I have never led a mission before, nor have I imposed someone else."

"Who ever said you were leading the mission?" Raylin knit her brows subtle manner, leaning into him uncomfortably. Vegeta clenched his jaw realizing the error in his statement. "As for imposing, this should be refreshing assignment for you."

He whipped back at her with much less subtle shock as his eyes met a growing smile. There was a hint of sarcasm in her features and she relinquished her unspoken grasp on him by resting back against the window panel again. "That's not funny."

She raised an eyebrow, "I never said I was funny."

His expression became more perturbed and he stood up with the protocol in hand to more carefully inspect it. Attached to it were a series of files of each relevant delegate associated with the Veruna camp, including their families within the compound. Vegeta felt for the newly implanted plugs in his neck and inserted the thin wires from the base of slip. The report began listing individuals' height, age, weight, appearance, language, etc. in a mental stream with a series of images following the respective information. The sensation was odd, akin to an electrical pulse coursing throughout his spine. It felt warm. Upon reaching Kandurea's image, he paused and glanced over to Raylin, "He's just a kid."

Raylin never looked away from her subordinate and replied impassively, "He is young, but you two share similar enough features to pass as each other."

"Convenient. His new partner looks outwardly similar to you." Vegeta sneered as he continued to scan the young female's profile. "How long has this been planned?"

She tilted her head, "That is irrelevant."

He stared contemptuously with the steady comprehension of his role. 'Choice' was superficial. "I've heard what happens to individuals being imposed. How do we plan on getting rid of both of them without incident if they are so well guarded in this compound?"

Raylin smiled more fully and stood up from the window panel, "They are not yet at the compound. Kandurea just recently accepted the offer to sit in on a series of delegations. They leave α9γγ-Spirruni in one solar month and 0.36 cycles from now are scheduled to arrive at Siqui Risa where we will intercept them."

Vegeta let out a small laugh and tugged the wires. In a near audible snap, the images faded from his mental view. "It sounds as though Nirrikii is assuming we will accept this protocol."

"She is."

"And if we do not accept?"

"Then the opportunity will be lost." Raylin walked slowly to him and took the slip out of his hand, "We still have time to accept or decline, but you must prepare yourself. Your protocol provides all of the required information on Kandurea, of which you must know unconsciously if this is to be flawless. Is that clear?"

Vegeta stood attentively at her final command, "Clear."

The commander let out a passive grin and brushed him lightly on the shoulder before making her way to the door, "Good. We have three hours until we leave for Nimα. Get prepared and read the protocol this time."


	9. Comfortably Numb

**Authors's Note: I don't own anything except for Kanie and mention of Raylin**. Ok, so this snippet is a lemon. Please ignore if your fragile virgin eyes are too sensitive. However, if you are interested, the set up in well into Vegeta's life. Not too long before he lands on earth, in fact. Everyone has a method of escape when reality becomes too difficult to deal with. For me, it's writing. For others its drugs and alcohol. Others it's sex. You get the picture.

Now, there is an OC involved in this segment. In actuality, there are three love interests in my story. I've already mentioned Kanie and Raylin. Bulma's the third. I know some are turned off by this, but I think this sort of relationship seems more fitting and more realistic for a person in Vegeta's position. For those who have been following along my stories in general I don't include torture or sexual misconduct – I think there are plenty of other ways to irrevocably destroy someone. Besides, this form of story gives important background and ties plot nicely since he knows many of the characters in the story for most of his life. Yeah, yeah, it's in fragments you say, but still there is depth there if you look for it.

Keep in mind that these excerpts are rearranged to fit in chronological order with the story. Sorry, but it's what happens when writing disjointedly.

So. Just to help you out: Mie means pet (like a cat or dog); kur is a type of large transport ship; nymtue is a plant like structure kind of like a tree or really big mushroom; revolution is their form of a day.

As always, **please** **please please REVIEW**. I know I'm crazy, but I'm not that bad…

Happy reading!

**Comfortably Numb**

This was how it was every time they met up. Carefully as to appear nonchalant they both scheduled their leaves conveniently on the same risa. Kanie had more authority on where she requested and a less condensed schedule, so thus followed on his cue for convenience. And even though she was sure that no one knew where they were or whom they were with, he was yet adamant on discreteness in a way that she refused to argue over. Vegeta was a painfully private individual.

Ever since they first reacquainted on Sequi Risa, there seemed to be this unspoken understanding between them. She offered him relief in a way that no one else was able or willing. Although he never personally said anything to that effect, he would go to great lengths to continue their rendezvous. At first tracking her down in a crowd somewhere, quietly gaining her attention to slip away soon after. Other times he saved her from the affliction of another male that he deemed unworthy. It was not that he cared she was with someone else – he just did not want his time wasted. After a while, Kanie made sure to schedule her leaves just for him, not because he demanded it, but because he was the only person she was truly interested in. Such blatant appeal by one individual admittedly complimented her in more than one way.

It was different each time, but followed a similar pattern. They would meet in a public setting. Both casual and unassuming. On a docking platform or near a local commons. He would find her or otherwise provide adequate directions upon arrival. She blushed when she received the note at her transport dock.

She could always sense him whenever he was near. Like a six sense, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood out, and she often half-wondered in the moment if she had saiyan somewhere in her recent lineage. They were not that far removed in their joint history anyway, and a queer grin surfaced on her cheeks at that thought. Sauntering down the long corridors, she pursued the set of instructions to exact specification, knowing that he would meet with her at some point along the way. And not a moment after the memory of him graced her sharp mind, did she look up to find the same face agilely observing from the opposite direction. Long defined features made her stomach falter the instant she recognized them. Although his outward appearance would fool the general razukin crossing his path, his demeanor screamed saiyan. She learned to recognize it over the cycles. He was forthright, a sense etched into his jaw line from clenching it too long. Eyes almost permanently narrowed, carefully scrutinizing all of his surroundings for a perceived threat. His poster was straight-laced and poised, ready and able to react without a moments notice.

When he rested his gaze on her one blink was all he afforded. The emotionless expression was intended to intimidate and would normally have succeeded on anyone else. But she knew it was a ruse. Everything about him was.

They were passing one another down the hall. Like the true higher ranked officer she was, Kanie faked a sniff and nudged her sight in another direction purposefully, in affect telling his offensive conduct to fuck off. She bit the inside of her lip to keep from smiling, but only resulted in an outward pout.

Vegeta, however, kept his eyes trained on her all the closer they got. She was playing, although he would never let her know his knowledge of it. He could sense her pulse increase each step he took toward her such that it almost made him leap in anticipation. The heartbeat was for him. He had to keep control as her hidden smirk emerged on the side not facing the pair, her perfume emanating, surrounding him in devious thoughts. She did that on purpose too.

Unhinging his jaw, he cuffed her upper arm just as he was to pass. He leaned into her side, his turn to give a clandestine smile onto her ear, and whispered, "Left corridor. End of the hall."

Kanie turned to face him fleetingly; her manicured petite features could make any other pilot jealous. She carried a virtue that never needed to be flaunted. It just oozed. And when she narrowed her round eyes, the thin brunette brows arching downward on her cream flawless bridge, the edges of her cheekbones tightening with a slight reddened hue, he reeled himself back in slightly to keep from losing it there.

How long had it been?

Gradually, she rolled out of his grip and hissed the breath between her teeth as though she were to keep some insult from slipping. Instead, she snapped away from him and exhaled with a haughty trail down the hall. She learned that from one of the more prissy pilots and laughed hardily until she felt like using it for fun. She was so proud of herself, an emotion that did not go unnoticed by the subordinate as he gave a full blown smile at her retreat.

They would flirt for a while until they concluded the charade to catch up with one another. Kanie would be bold faced lying if she said that it did not arouse her to some higher degree. She rounded the corner as instructed and found the airlift at the end of her trail. Stopping short though, she thought briefly of where she was supposed to be heading. She had not reserved the quarters this time.

Before she made a decision, a hand touched the base of her back while the other smoothly tapped the control panel before her. The swish of the airlock opened, further urging her into the confines of the small tube. Confidently, she entered and rounded to see her escort - the same subordinate she casually blew off moments before - now entering the coordinates and giving an insulting gesture to another officer he denied entry. In truth, the hand signal was one only another saiyan would recognize. All the more reason why he chose to give it to the razukin unhappily waving back. In so many ways they were beneath him.

Apart from her. She was an exception. Kanie had some time to look at the male before the doors closed. He stood young, tall and lanky, dark shortened hair and refined features she was so accustomed to. He was a fighter pilot not far below her rank. If Vegeta was anywhere else, she would have to call him on his actions. Instead, she held her position, hands carefully tucked behind her back and quirked a grin as the male shifted his sight toward her for silent retribution. A swift shake of her head was his answer.

That was one of the qualities she always adored in him. He was the worst rebel.

The instant the doors closed and he could guarantee their solitude, he was on her. One swift motion and the security detector was removed, Kanie slammed against the wall so hard that it felt as though the metal would mold beneath her. It hurt for a split second. He chose not crush himself into her though, instead staring intently into her eyes. Her deep chocolate eyes. There was a splinter of blue there and gold hidden near the center. Clasping a palm at the base of her neck, the other around her thigh, he leaned in keen enough to keep eye contact as her ragged breath touched his.

Once passed that point, she could hardly keep track of her surroundings. Fear surged forth though with sudden comprehension that their transport could stop anywhere along the path. They could very well be caught. But the male pinning her against the wall did not seem to care, which was something very novel since he was always so fastidious with his confidentiality. In fact, the heightened alarm hitching her breath against his lips seemed to intensify the lingering moment before he claimed dominance over hers. There was nothing soft about that kiss. Nothing padding the space between her back and the concave face of the wall as he pulled both of her legs up to lock around his waist at her ankles. Reflexively, she pivoted arms up on his shoulders, pushing herself forward; in effect deepening the embrace.

Devouring her was his only thought then. The temperature rose several degrees. The lights seemed to dim just slightly, the minute hum flickering in and out above their heads. He watched her brows pinch together as he attempted to touch her throat from the inside. The squeak that piped out when he pressed himself at her hips earned a smile. And he became more insistent because she desired it. Sweat beaded along her dark hairline, her pulse pounding in her ears begging for air.

With consideration, he allowed to her gasp slightly, both from oxygen depravation and the pin-prickling sensation as he traced the edge of his teeth along her chin and down her neck. He placed a palm against her chest wrap, entirely too restricting given the circumstances. The other hand rubbed down the small of her spine, her hold on his waist tightening as he rocked against her again and again.

She rolled her eyes back as no words could leave her throat. Fearful to make any noise, she pensively, worriedly glanced at the airlock door still swift along its path to their final destination. With this dread presenting itself again, she finally had to say something. But conquering her nonplussed state was far tougher as her partner abandoned his search near her breast and buried fingers deeply into her hair carefully pulled into a tidy pin. Immediately the brooch was dismantled, sending a rain of shiny umber down to meet his face now brushing by her cheek to resume his ministrations.

She could feel herself constrict internally, grappling his collar trying to heave herself up and away from the sensations all too burdened by the several layers of cloth between them. This had to stop before someone figured it out even after the doors opened. Frantically, she bit her lip to keep from crying out. It felt like she would make it bleed, holding herself back from taking it out on him if she had the option. Of course she could see the snicker in her mind. It was what he wanted, but she was not yet going to give in with such panic ensuing in her chest.

Suddenly, he chose the route for her, nipping along her carotid artery passed the angle of her jaw and to the base of her ear, a swift piercing bite from the canine on her earlobe was all it took. Another squeak ushered forth, a deep chuckle ruptured so closely that she could feel the heat ripple out, his tongue nurturing her new wound with no apology to accompany it. Kanie clamped finger nails rigidly into his back, this time earning a groan for her effort and another sharp prick lower on her neck. His hands firmly in place. His waist fixed against her.

This was too much. It was all too much for her. He bit her again with more assertion, and she stifled a yip while shifting her attention to the token beep from the airlift, informative of their arrival on the next deck. He did not seem to notice. Shutting her eyes and curling delicate fingers into his jet hair, Kanie jerked the scalp back with every shred of strength she could muster.

Vegeta halted all movement, audibly hissed against the smooth column of her neck. And swallowing slowly, he tilted inward with an equally resounding growl. Not out of anger. It was exhilarating. But he also got the point. The pilot leaned her head against the wall, her subordinate letting her down on the silent command, eyes trained directly on her. Those deviant eyes staring until they made contact and she unconsciously obliged, still trying to regain her breath.

Just as the airlock door opened to an empty foyer, just as he was expecting, the saiyan stepped away from her to an appropriate distance. She always forgot how similar in size they were until times like this. With indifference, he looked away as though nothing happened, motioning toward the door with a fervent clip. But Kanie was not moving. She was not ready, trying her best to get a hold of her own bodily functions before embarrassing herself further in public.

When she did not immediately stride away, he waited patiently at the door as it beeped unappreciatively from the obstruction hindering its function. After a moment, he turned to her, his eyes seemingly mimicking her breathless pose against the airlift wall, and quirked his lips slyly. So customary, she could be blind and still know that smile, his smirk, an evil poser grin to warn those who would risk death to confront him. His eyes, though, gave him away. But he only gave it a mere moment before quietly, flatly speaking and departing down the corridor, "You're letting your hair grow out."

He did not want her to hide behind the mask of that prim pilot she was so trained to be since the time they first met on the training station all those cycles prior. The prodigy of her time, Kanie was the first and youngest transport pilot to serve aboard a kur ship. She was also one of the first pilots to prototype the implant associated with its full-function control. Such technology now was outdated, although her status allowed access to command much larger fleets. It was in her future to become a commander. An A class officer to rise above the many as a symbol of her generation.

Her lover, her pathetic lover, of all things was the opposite. He was bred to hold a higher rank. He was to be that leader, yet was deprived of it from birth. The youngest in his class, if there was such as thing for his status, his claim to fame was the sole survivor from an endless war he was never supposed to be a part of. His kind was meant to be swept clean from their history, the killing breed no longer required as obsolete. Instead, trained to be the underhanded symbol behind the shiny alters that remained. The assassin. The negotiator. And even that was eventually denied. Taken away the moment _she_ left as a byproduct of her perfidy. He had nothing now but the bottom rung. Cries mingling the loss of so many, innocent and otherwise, claiming his punishment for never upholding either the strength that was deemed fit to place upon him or the function that he failed to facilitate.

He rarely chose to think of _her_ in the myriad of anguish churning in a consistent rhythm behind his corneas. The mere image of the female enigma resulted in a fury he could not tear away from. Sadness for the loss and anger for never telling her before the opportunity vanished permanently. He needed to escape. It was all too suffocating to focus on.

He did not love Kanie. He knew that he did not love her. Yet, he could not be so callous as to outright deny what this perfect, beautiful little mie offered him. Freely. In some ways a part of him considered it charity to let this caged creature loose, the very thing that he was beginning to lose sight of. Each mission was weighing heavier than the last, the conscience screaming in his own head of all the atrocities he was truly capable of. All the reasons why they rightly hated his kind. All of this repeating in his brainpan like sound bits on a message log. He did not deserve this. But he would take it anyway if it meant freedom for at least a short while longer.

So once they were in the marked territory of privacy, then all was lost. The eye ever on the objective, he did not wait this time, backing his petite lover first up against the adjoining wall near the exit and then picking her up in the same manner as before now to move her rather than hold her still. It was too constricting a position.

And she did not fight it this time either. Quite the opposite as that episode set her on the teetering of an explosive ending. The reckless attitude was in some manner irritating while in another exciting. The female razukin did not know quite how to react as her saiyan counterpart feverishly removed any confinement that really kept them apart. Strong forearms pinned her in place on her back, a mouth again attempting to reach her from the inside. She snaked thin fingers around his ribs and up his torso in a fickle caress, giggling roguishly as the sleek muscles involuntarily twitched under her sway. Ticklish, he would avidly deny it. A pointed mannerism for her to cease, he jarred both wrists roughly above her head coincident with brusquer handling around her neck and chest, the biting more resolute, more pressing.

It was not difficult too recognize how slick she was beneath him. Pushing up on his quads and knees, he thrust deeply. He yearned for her to cry out in his arms. The sound was the utter contradiction of the voices playing in his own head. And it was not much work to be rewarded for his effort; a simple job in hindsight, easy enough to not fuck up.

Rotating her up to sit on his upper legs, moving her as he felt best, the silky tresses again hindered his view. Yanking clumps back, visualizing her features as they appeared lost and flush in the energy he was forcing upon her, up inside her, throughout her, he could feel the first tendrils of losing control. Fear clamped hold at first, like always, stern countenance reflecting hard concentration, his fingers digging determinedly into her hair and back. Her hitched shrieks as he tried to hold on were almost too much to take. So he dug in, toes curling against the soft pad under them, arms snaking up under her shoulder blades, raking back down to the round hump of her ass, his teeth into her collar and chest. Under her velvety jaw line and around her ear. Each movement rewarded with another cry, yelp, or uninhibited shudder provided the motivation to finish.

Fear was quickly replaced by agony, then release. It was a release that attempted to take everything with him, the electric bolts surging behind his eyelids for it was the first time he let them fully shut. Darkness engulfed him in a sweeping, thundering, terrifying encapsulation of all his emotions pounded into submission. All he could do was clutch tightly, lurching forward, a muffled scream into the supple cushion beneath. It felt as though it would last forever and although he desperately wished the spasms to end, he would give anything in that moment to repeat it.

So, it was no surprise that it took another three times before he calmed, this round. She was grateful enough as she was tired and sore, concerned once more of his fanatical obsession to reach exhaustion. Heated pants filled the space between both of them with silent pros to stop. Rest. Sleep. Almost predictably, he laid his sweating forehead in the crook of her neck, slowing his heart rate and breathe with the discipline of a master before obeying her tacit plea. It was in a strong way welcoming for at least he could at last close his eyes to the blank void that waited; her body providing the rhythmic thudding of a heartbeat to guide him. It would be the first time he actually slept since the last time he saw her face.

And like always, it was some time later that she awakened, cautiously at first, feeling the movement of long narrow fingers over her skin again. This time, however, the message was different. Less insistent. Softer, she urged to imagine. Silky lips traced her back, pausing at every bruise or scratch or mark etched by his own hand. Guilt, she could envision, radiated into her tissue with every motioned apology. So powerfully that it nearly made her cease his venture if it were not that he also still held her steadfastly, persistent enough to finish what he started. That was his thing.

Besides, she never really believed he was a rough lover, anyway. Just a desperate one.

His disposition changed noticeably after that. The sullen scowl disappeared. His brows flattened against the smooth angle of his beautiful face, arms hung limply to the floor. The tranquil sensation was like a dream for him. The emptiness was more satisfying than the act of getting there. She was a drug. A wonderful, wonderful drug.

Kanie watched this transformation like she did every time before, curled lithely on the edge of the sleeping pad, staring down for what could seem like hours until he opened his eyes finally, a relaxed visage reflecting ashen irises several shades lighter than before. He turned toward her, peering up through his lashes and leisurely, ever so sensually, smiled. Then he asked, "Are you hungry?"

There was no sarcasm in his voice. No lingering anger hidden beneath his smooth cheeks. No rigidity in the muscles of his arms and back as they continued to lie contentedly where he placed them. This was her reward and she would not dare want anything else.

In the manner that he always loved to see, she would bite her lower lip in a pursed smile and nod. How could he deny her anything? She was too innocent. Or so he liked to deem. No one was ever really pure, but it was futile to regard her as anything else with the comparison he was given. And that was fine.

Really, it was tragic that they only had so much time. A valuable commodity, they spent every lasting moment they could in that room. Comfortably numb. They would never talk about when he needed to leave – his off time was always shorter than hers. Instead, they would find other things to entertain their passage. Quiet conversations. Her family on the small planet so far from her that she only had one opportunity to visit since her first tour off Ngtsu. Childhood memories of when she first saw one of the kur ships dock near her home and how the engine seared the flat topped nymtue for the longest distance that she could trace. The pilots were all so tall and graceful. The razukin females embodied dominant prowess; she could not help but admire them. How her parents cried when she left and how her brother was somewhat angered by her seemingly casual disregard for their tradition. How the military was and always would be the harder life.

And she smiled after a variation of that story, for she rarely reminisced upon it. Much like they never talked about his missions or history beyond what she knew before all of the horrible political drama dragged abashedly into the public. His name was plastered everywhere in cohort with Raylin after she left. He was famous but in the most unpleasant way, for it was nearly damning to be associated openly with the enemy. For that reason, she could understand why he was so secretive. Why he was guarded.

Still, in all his grim resentment for reality, he was the same small saiyan she knew all those cycles prior. He was quiet, reticent, intelligent. He cared too much. The worst was that she saw it was killing him. It took away everything he was, each time she saw him again a little less remained. But it was taboo to let him know; to expose that weakness so driven into his psyche that he actually believed it. He did not want pity. No shoulder to cry on. An avenue of escape, a safe haven was difficult enough to accept. So she stifled the burden on her shoulders and kept it concealed for her friend. In the end, at least someone would know the truth.

It was not until after he was calmed and relaxed that he could actually see her with a clear mind. Memorizing it for future reference. Usually, he sat up across from her while she slept, studying her oval brushed face, her small nose and narrow lips, the curve of her stomach as it molded into her hips and length in a way only a female could carry it. Questioning why he kept coming back again and again. He needed to leave soon. The next protocol already reached his scouter several revolutions prior, but he refused to look at it until now because it always set him in a bad mood. And she did not need to see that.

Perhaps he did care for her more than he would admit. That was what happened before and he let it go too long.

He would never tell her when he left. Usually, she would just wake up one revolution to an empty room, the flash of ships departing from the black rectangular window to her side. This first light was no different, her heart could almost predict the cracking sound before she opened her eyes. She sniffed it off as being a consequence of never saying goodbye the first time. Not knowing if he was alive or dead. But it was never her role to care beyond a friend anyway, and she knew that. So facing her fear was not as bad as she thought, scanning the quarters with a sigh before casually laying back against the wall. She sent a smile and quiet prayer for his safety.


End file.
